Artemus, despite the First Keeper's feverish protests, enrolled Garrett into the Haven's training program by the next fortnight.
He could tell his charge was growing restless in his chambers, he had been after the first week he had been confined there and honestly it was cruel to keep the young boy, so used to freedom, locked to those four walls.
However, the instant Artemus offered Garrett the door, the door Garrett had so stubbornly tried to slip through so many times before… The young boy cowered behind the Keepers leg, desperate not to lose sight of the Keeper.
His Keeper.
It took time and patience on not only Artemus' half, but on behalf of many other Keepers dedicated to the education of the foundlings… Behavioral problems were nothing unheard of within the Haven, many children indoctrinated into the Haven has some odd little tick about them. Nothing a guiding hand couldn't ease and nothing never seen before...
But it took an impossible amount of bravery for Garrett to properly settle into the Haven.
And Artemus used the term settle very lightly when it came to Garrett.
At first, as most children did, the young street rat remained cautious, sticking to Artemus' side whenever and for however long he could, and if not the Keeper, then the shadows.
Garrett walked as if he were treading glass. Constantly alert of every action and word he spoke or made. Even so young, Garrett was a remarkably quiet child, only speaking when spoken to unless he was in the presence of his Keeper, typical behavior of a street child.
The fear that one wrong step could see him thrown out pushed the young boy to continue, to strive, to survive.
"The Haven won't see you gone for something as silly as dropping a mug Sámhach." Artemus cooed as he dabbed his charge's dampened cheeks with a napkin.
"And I most certainly won't see you gone for something as silly as dropping a mug."
Garrett sniffled sheepishly as he looked down to his hands where he had collected the shattered remains of his cocoa mug, the very same cocoa mug Artemus had given him his very first night under his care.
"Are you sure?" The young boy whispered softly as he watched Artemus scoop up the clay fragments of the mug.
"Of course Sámhach." Artemus replied as he set the mess on the table before he turned back to his charge, just in time to hear Garrett mutter something along the lines of, "My name's not Sámhach…"
Artemus crouched low before the boy, setting his hands on Garrett's shoulders, ignoring the snide little comment.
"Just wait. Be brave." The young Keeper chimed, "Everything will be fine, you'll see."
And as the weeks dragged by and it became clear that mere missteps or a striking tongue would not be enough to have him cast from the Haven, that everything would indeed be fine…
Garrett began to return to… What Artemus could only assume to be his old ways.
The young Keeper wasn't exactly sure the development was good, but it was… Positive, at the very least.
The young boy stopped walking on glass, and began to pace among the shadows.
Artemus would watch as the young boy he had taken into his arms, into his home, in the dead of a cold, cold winter night night… Slunk through the darkness of the ancient library, stalking his prey until finally, he would reach out and strike with startlingly silent grace.
Picking pockets and swiping coin right beneath the noses of his fellow Keeper Apprentices. Even going as far as to swindle extra food right from beneath the cooks noses during mealtimes!
Of course, Artemus would force the young boy to return everything that had been stolen, if the young Keeper caught him in the act, much to the young boy's chagrin.
"They weren't being careful enough." Garrett would mutter stiffly as he watched his latest prizes disappear into the same pockets he had taken them from.
"They weren't expecting anyone to take their things." Artemus pointed out calmly as he ran his fingers through his charge's hair.
Garrett remained quiet and thoughtful as he leaned into the soft caress, Artemus could tell he was already planning his next attempt.
And he wondered if he'd be able to catch Garrett the next time...
True to Artemus' assumption, the young apprentice grew more and more apt in his trade with every attempt on a pocket, caught or not. So much so that even Artemus fell victim to the young boy's tricks more often than not.
It was a funny little joke between them in a way, though most subjected to finding their coin pouch or what have you missing, found it annoying, Artemus couldn't help the small swell of pride which welled in his chest every time Garrett offered him some stolen trinket.
Garrett had come a long way from a lowly street rat desperate for any amount of coin… Artemus could remember the young boy he had plucked from the snow that fateful night.
The boy who called himself Garrett.
The boy who clung to his leg and hid beneath his cloak whenever he could…
Artemus could remember the boy fondly.
But that boy was not the Garrett he knew today.
Everything Artemus thought he knew about the young boy changed once Erin came into the picture.