"Garrett, ya gotta stop," Basso told him. The thief just stared at him. He looked him in the eye, and the fence's face took on a sad look of concern. Or was that pity? Garrett didn't care. "Do you have any jobs for me, or don't you?"
"No, buddy. Not tonight. Sorry."
The thief didn't look away from Basso, although he did blink a few times. At last, he leaned against a table and looked at the ceiling. Everything felt hazy and grey, quiet but loud at the same time. His vision was swimming and his head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. The look on his face was his usual one - a frown. This time, he just had a reason to have it.
Just then, another man walked in, strolled straight up to Basso and gave him a jeweled necklace, which he was paid handsomely for. He left the building as quickly as he'd arrived, without a single word.
"I thought you said you save jobs for me if there are any. You like consistent acquisitions," Garrett confronted him.
"Ehhh, listen, Garrett, uh…" Basso's voice got a little quieter. "We're worried about you, pal. I mean, you come in here, you're lookin' like a ghost. Even more so than usual, all pale and swaying. Your voice is all icy and stuff. And you just walked in using the actual door this time. Something's going on, and even that Queen of Beggars came walkin' up to me the other day asking me if I knew anything about you these days."
"What'd you tell her?"
"Nothing, just what I could see."
Garrett knew Basso was expecting him to be satisfied with that answer and let the matter drop. He didn't.
"What did she say to you?"
Basso looked away for a second and breathed out, puffing his cheeks as he did. He shook his head and looked back at Garrett, pursing his lips together in a squished flat line. He shook his head again, eyes full of concern for his best friend.
"Don't do this, man. What happened, happened. Let it go."
"You don't have to pay me," the master thief's voice was possessed of an almost desperate quality. Something that was not just rare in Garrett - but never there at all. "Just tell me what you want. I'll get it for you. I always do. You trust me, right?"
"I… I trust you, but, holy slaughtered burricks, Garrett… You need this that badly, huh?" Basso had always known that to his friend, theft was a lifestyle and one he could never give up. Some days, it seemed to be the only thing that gave him any actual happiness. His one true love. Or was it? The way he was behaving could have meant it was a fifty-fifty chance. Still, the last time he'd stolen for no money was… He didn't know. He didn't remember. "I'm sorry, Garrett, I can't let you do this."
The thief just pushed past Basso, and the bigger man was about to grab his arm and throw him to the ground, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt Garrett any more than he already had been. He just sighed, looked at the ground and rubbed his eyes, a little sadly - disappointed in himself.
Garrett's fingers glided over the pages until he found one page full of jobs that hadn't been done yet. He looked at the one on the top - a sapphire that was being held in some person's house. Too easy. He looked further and found another one. A jeweled dagger kept on a noble's hip. A moving target, alright. But that just meant he could follow him until he could make the grab. Too boring. His patience had been shot the last few days. So had his nerves. He looked at the very bottom of the list and memorized the details of the hardest job on it. To steal an old religious parchment. A piece of Hammerite faith, still kept. Black market would charge a pretty penny for that, and Basso would be happy to earn the bucks - especially since the master thief had told him he wouldn't need to pay him.
He memorized the details of the job - frowning a bit harder when he saw the area it was in. No problem. Just part of the challenge, that's all. He had to find a way to clear his mind eventually. It was only when he stole that he could ever calm himself completely.
He walked back past Basso and the fence once more begged, "Come on, pal, stop this. You're destroyin' yourself. You got nothing to prove, you did a good job. You did the best you could and we're all grateful for that!"
"It wasn't good enough," Garrett replied, coldly.
"You haven't slept for four days, Garrett! I'm scared you're gonna collapse in the middle of some rich asshole's house!"
"It's not gonna happen," the thief replied.
"And if it does?"
He turned to look at him, his eyes dead - revealing a numb soul. "Then it does."
As he walked away, he wondered if Basso felt guilty for not stopping him. He wondered if Basso was just trying to help, and if he was genuinely worried about him. Then he told himself none of that mattered.
As he climbed the rooftop close to the place containing the Hammerite parchment, he looked over to the left. A few buildings in that direction was…
"No. Forget about it," he told himself. His voice sounded far away.
He dropped down to ground level and a single, sleepy guard was standing watch near the door that he'd have to get into. He wasn't so close to it that the sound would alert him, but there was an open flame hanging on the wall right next to the door. Garrett didn't like that. He took a single Water Arrow from his quiver and drew it back, releasing it and letting it snap forward into the fire. Water splashed over the small area and the flame was extinguished, only smoke rising into the air, with the glow of embers still emanating from the blackened torch.
He crouched next to the door and looked through the keyhole. The description in Basso's book stated that there'd be nobody home at the time, but that there would still be a fairly heavy guard presence. With that in mind, he scanned the room through the keyhole's limited viewing area and saw one guard asleep in a chair. He was right to have killed the torch.
As he walked into the house, he immediately sensed a foreboding presence. His eye hadn't bothered him for a long time, and the shard of the Primal Stone in him seemed to be gone. For that, he was grateful. He could no longer see the glows and hear the whispers that told him of where things were hidden - but then, he never really needed that to begin with. He was more than capable of finding things on his own.
As soon as he stuck the four silver pens and the golden letter opener he found into his pockets however, his vision faltered and he swayed a step to the right, almost slamming into the wall. Maybe Basso was right. Maybe he was working himself too hard. He needed to sleep. Why had he gone on this stealing spree with no rest, again?
I think it would be better if we just went our separate ways.
It took a large amount of his willpower not to curse at the thought that invaded his sleep-deprived mind. His thoughts were sluggish now. At the top of the stairs, he heard someone walking. A guard. I need to… He couldn't complete the thought. This shouldn't have been happening. He should have been an avatar of clear thought and precise decision-making. Instead he was literally falling asleep on the job. A shot of fear pierced through him and for a second he doubted whether he'd get out of here alive.
It only makes sense. I won't bother you, and you don't have to worry about living up to me.
He hated himself for having told that to her. He knew her well enough. Erin was loyal, but once he'd told her to leave, he knew she wasn't coming back. He reminded himself that he was thinking about something prior to getting caught up in his thoughts about his protege. His former protege. What was it… The guard!
He looked to the top of the stairs, and flattened himself against the nearby wall to get a proper view of the upper landing without exposing himself. Nothing. No footsteps, no Watchman came in view.
What the hell is going on?
He quietly flowed up the stairs, his movement as graceful as it was powerful. Well… As graceful as it could have been. As he neared the top, he felt his shin bump into the step in front of him and he stumbled, losing his balance. This is it, he thought, this is going to be the end. They'll see me. Heh. The only time I ever get caught is when I'm sleepier than the damn guards.
The irony was heartbreaking, but he put a smile on his face. He didn't know why he was thinking this way. The only lead he had was that Garrett never liked being attached to anything. He was good at staying detached. But the problems came in when he felt Erin drop strings towards him. He was good at remaining string-free. But it was severing them that hurt. He was a puppet controlled by no one. He'd never been controlled by anyone. He didn't understand his reckless behavior. He didn't understand how impulsive, careless and sloppy he was being. It reminded him of…
Erin.
For a second, he wondered if she'd been that way so much of the time because she couldn't get him off her own mind. But no, that was impossible. He laughed, sleepily, at his own stupidity. Erin didn't care much for anything except her own survival. When she'd felt betrayed by him, sure she was hurt - but anyone would be. It could have been anyone doing it to anyone else. Still, the thief had doubts. The doubts grew smaller doubts. His mind was a giant contradiction, and he just wanted so badly to… Fall asleep…
His head snapped up and he searched for the guard at the top of the stairs. There was no one in the room. Yet someone had just been walking around just moments before. Strange.
He lazily looted everything in the room and went back downstairs, only to find the sleeping guard now gone as well. The guard in the street had also disappeared. What's going on? he asked himself. Was he already asleep? Had he begun dreaming? There was no way guards would just up and vanish from their post.
"One can dream," he muttered to himself.
He went back into the house and found it eerily quiet, on top of being suspiciously empty. Wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible, he soon found himself in the dark, cold basement. He found the safe containing the supposed page of Hammerite scripture and began picking it open. It took longer than usual and his head started to hurt from the increased concentration that was warring with his fatigue. At last, he opened the safe and took the page, rolling it up and sticking it in a special metal tube made specifically for such things. But something bothered him.
He looked down and saw a wire leading from it to a box on the wall. He'd been so tired that he'd carelessly walked right into a trap. "Checkmate, Basso," he said, referring to his friends penchant for Chess. Nothing happened. Nothing exploded, he didn't feel the pain of death. Narrowing his eyebrows, he ran a finger along the wire to the box on the wall and very carefully opened it. The wire had already been severed.
Someone's already cut this. And they didn't take the page. Why?
He didn't question any of it further, deciding to leave the premises while he still could.
By the time he got to his Clock Tower, he'd almost slipped and fell off the rooftops three times. Climbing through the tower's interior, he put his new loot onto the table and arranged it in neat rows to look at tomorrow.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, his vision was hazy. He still thought of her. It was stupid. She was gone, and that was the way it should be.
"For once in your life, Erin, you listened to me," he mumbled to himself. For once in his life, he didn't want her to.
His eyes warmed. A slow tear came out of each one. He didn't led it slide down his face, wiping it away instantly. I've got to stop this. The last time he cried was when he was a young boy. When he'd been beaten by a rich noble he'd begged for food. His stomach had been empty, and as the man slapped him, Garrett knew he could hear the growling of his stomach. Still, he didn't help him. He had tried to be kind. He had tried to be polite. He cried. And when he picked himself up off the ground he realized the world wasn't kind. The world would never be kind. Not to someone like him. So he took things himself. He took what he needed, and he didn't care if anyone missed it. He knew no one would ever care about him, so he swore never to care about anyone.
As he wiped away his tears, sitting on his bed in that tower, Garrett once again understood that the world wasn't kind - and that it never would be. At least Erin was gone. At least she was happy. The sorrow threatened to come back in full force. She feels better because I'm not around. Doesn't everyone?
The only people who wanted him, were the ones who wanted to hang him.
Wanted. A dishonest word. Always the opposite of what it intended, they wanted him gone. Hung. Dealt with.
He'd almost died tonight. Still, he didn't understand why the guards had randomly decided to leave. As his head hit the pillow and he lay on his back, he heard the pigeons on his windowsill flutter about. The birds were restless tonight. So was he. He wouldn't sleep well, he knew it. The only reason he would fall asleep at all was because his body demanded it of him.
A few seconds later, the light of the moon on closed eyelids darkened.
As he opened his eyes a crack, he saw Erin's face above him. Her hand went onto his forehead and he closed his eyes again. Disbelieving what he had seen, he simply breathed out. After a moment had passed, he said, "You're really here… Aren't you?"
"Mhm," a soft voice above him answered.
Suddenly, he knew.
"The guards…"
"Mhm."
"The trap…"
"Yup." She sounded different. Less hostile. More… Caring.
"Why?" he asked her. "We made a promise to each other."
"When have I ever listened to you?" she asked in a certain tone, which when he heard, he just knew she was rolling her eyes.
"Besides," she said. "I promised you something a while ago too."
"What was that?"
"I'll pick up your slack."
She laid down beside him.
"You gonna yell at me for killing those guards, Garrett?" she murmured into his ear, pressing up close to him.
"I don't… Agree with it."
"Aw, that's all?"
"Thank you."
She was surprised.
"That's different."
"For saving my life."
A tiny smile spread on her face and she kissed his cheek.
The last words he heard before fading into unconsciousness were, "Get some sleep, Garrett. We have a lot of catching up to do."