The Heart sits on the windowsill of Corvo's office in the City, beating steadily while he works. It shouldn't be beating at all since there are no bonecharms or runes in the City. Except for one. But Corvo knows exactly where that one is. It's no coincidence that the Heart is situated in the window facing Stonemarket.

At some point, he's not sure when, he realizes the Heart's beating has slowed down. The bonecharm has moved farther away. He pauses in his writing, debating. It's no reason to worry just yet. He'll just have to pay attention and make sure the beating goes back to normal again. Besides, he can't go running off every time he's worried. No matter how much he wants to.

Time seems to go more slowly after that. So does his work. He loses track of how many times he glances at the clock. It never goes fast enough. On the windowsill, the Heart keeps up the same slow, heavy beat. He taps his pen against the desktop. Shouldn't it have gone back to normal by now? It seems like it should have. He makes himself breathe and drags his focus back to his work, but the Heart never goes back to normal. It keeps going slowly -- so slowly Corvo almost can't hear it unless he pays attention. Only half his mind is on his work. The other half is running in circles. Why is it still so slow? Why hasn't it gone back to normal? That noise is driving him crazy. It sounds like it's-

Dying.

He pushes his chair back from the desk hard enough for the legs to scrape against the floor. His pen rolls off the desk and clatters onto the floor. Any plans he had for finishing his work tonight are gone. He strides towards the Heart and snatches it up off the windowsill, leaving all his rationale behind in its place. Something is wrong, he knows it.

He pulls his mask from his coat and puts it on. A risky place to keep it, but he's never sure if or when he'll need it here and he can't leave it in his hotel room for someone to stumble upon and start connecting the dots. He leaves through the window, eyes already searching out the Clock Tower in the distance as the Heart slows even further. Not there. But a little to the right, in the direction of South Quarter, it picks up just a little. He takes off in that direction, Blinking across the wide, flat rooftops of Dayport, adjusting his course as he gets closer.

South Quarter is all the way across the island, so by the time the buildings change from Dayport's grand manors and expensive shops to the damp, winding streets and cramped apartments of the South Quarter, Corvo's heartbeat matches the Heart's frantic rhythm. And it isn't just from the exercise. By no means is he an expert on the City, certainly not on the people, but Garrett warned him months ago about the split between the South Quarter and Riverside. South Quarter is patrolled by the Watch, like every other part of the City. But Riverside belongs solely to the Eelbiters, a gang whose leader is known for his cruelty. They've somehow wrested control of that half of the district from the Watch. To the point where there are no more Watchmen in Riverside.

Garrett told him once how he stole from the Eels' leader for a job; how, despite Chokes' reputation, Garrett found it remarkably easy. At the time Corvo said something about how Garrett thought everything was easy when it came to stealing. Now all he can think about is the gangs in Dunwall and how they seek retribution over the smallest slights, the way their turf wars can go on for months. If he wants to find him quickly, he'll have to tread carefully.

He stops at a knot of streets and alleys. The Heart is beating so hard it's almost shaking his arm. He has to be close. He puts the Heart away and flexes his hand. The whole world goes black around him, except for two figures milling around in front of a building. They're lit up in a bright, unavoidable yellow. They keep glancing up at the roof. When his vision clears, he can see the blood trailing along the street leading to the roof. The panic-stricken part of him fades away as a stillness inside him rises to the surface.

"Little rat," one mutters. "You think he got away?"

"Nah. Knife was too sharp for him to get very far."

The first one pauses. "If you lift me up there, I can finish him off."

"So you can fall back onto me? I don't think so."

Both men have their backs turned. He stalks forward, dropping silently down from the roof and grabs one in a chokehold. He squeezes until he stops struggling and drops him none too gently. His knife clatters onto the cobblestones. The second turns and rushes at him, knife in hand. He opens his mouth to shout but is cut off by a punch to his stomach. Again he spins him around and puts him in a chokehold. He doesn't waste time being gentle.

He looks up at the edge of the roof, the blood still gleaming on its ledge. Please. He climbs up the angled roof and drops down on the other side. It's a bit of a fall, but he's seen worse. The rooftops here aren't much better than the streets. The blood goes down another angled roof and across the space between two buildings, up another roof. He hauls himself up onto a ledge and follows the blood to the right. He drops down from another high drop and on the roof across from him, curled up outside some shop's door, is Garrett.

He's sitting with his back against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed. Blood stains the hand pressed to his side where it leaked through his fingers.

It's like the ground has fallen from under him. He can't tell if he's the one shaking or if it's just the feeling of the Heart in his pocket. Is he even breathing? Is he even--No. He won't go there. He can't.

He crosses the roof and kneels beside him. He's gentle when he puts a hand on his shoulder, but he still flinches. "Garrett?"

He is breathing, but it's too fast and too shallow. He opens his eyes. "Corvo..." He says slowly. A line appears between his brows. "How...?"

He almost smiles at that. Always asking questions. He's not too far gone. "What happened?" He tries to move his hand away.

He tries to flinch back from him but there's nowhere to go. Slowly he starts to relax again, though his breathing is shaky.

"Let me," he says softly. "I only need to check."

"It's okay," he says quickly, softly like he's trying to calm a startled animal. "I'm okay."

His attempts at comfort only frighten him more, worry him more. "Let me see." He moves his hand away, wincing when Garrett does. The wound itself isn't too bad, but there's too much blood. He pushed himself too hard. "What happened?"

"I had to get away."

"From what?"

"Eels," he mumbles.

His head snaps up at that. "Eels?" The men on the ground. I should have-

"Jeb's gang," he amends, eyes sliding shut again.

His heart jumps into his throat. "Hey, eyes open. Tell me what happened." He doesn't want to move him unless he can keep him from losing any more blood, but he doesn't have anything to stop it.

"The job went wrong," he says. His voice is so quiet. "I... It wasn't... I wasn't supposed to be here. They found me, recognized me. Wanted payback."

They fall silent while Corvo tries to figure this out. Garrett can't walk all the way back to the Clock Tower, let alone climb and he really doesn't want to move him. But he doesn't see any other option. "I'm going to pull you up, okay?"

He nods slowly, a dazed look in his eyes.

Maybe it's worse than he thought if he's accepting help so easily. That scares him more than him putting up a fight. "Jeb who?" He blurts. Just keep talking to me.

"Huh?"

"You said Jeb's gang. Jeb who?" He'd rather be sure.

"Chokes."

He nods, a dozen grisly ideas coming to mind even as he turns around. "Arms over my shoulders." Garrett clasps his hands over his chest. "Ready?"

"No..."

"Garrett."

He sighs miserably. "Just... Get it over with. Please."

He stands slowly, making sure he stays balanced and lifting him up off the ground. He hooks his hands under Garrett's legs. "Okay?"

He shudders and exhales through clenched teeth. "No."

His heart squeezes at the barely leashed pain in his voice. "Alright," he says, "just stay awake." Please, he wants to say. To beg. Just stay with me.

He drops his head onto his shoulder, muffling his voice. "But..."

"I know, I know," he croons. He hitches him up a little higher and starts moving back the way he came, back across all the roofs. "Tell me about these Eels." There's a long pause. Sharp-edged panic starts to bleed back in. "Garrett?"

"You're... You can't."

"Can't what?"

"Hurt them."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He pulls him up again.

He gasps against his shoulder. "Taffer."

"I'll chalk that up to you having lost a lot of blood."

He sighs and goes quiet.

He's torn between letting him get what rest he can and making him keep talking. But he also needs to focus on getting them back to the Clock Tower. He'll have to let him rest.

Instead of going back to where he found those Eels, he takes a right and scales a steep roof. He climbs up and across the flat expanse of what might be a balcony and drops to the ground on the other side. From there he finds his way to the canal through an abandoned apartment. They're officially back in South Quarter. Out of Eelbiter territory.

"How did you... Find me?" Garrett mumbles into his shoulder.

There he is. His brilliant thief. It fills him with relief he can't be bothered to measure. But he can't know.

"Corvo?"

"I had a bad feeling." He shrugs as much as he can without hurting him. "I followed it."

"Can't believe you're a spy," he mutters.

"What? Why?"

"Horrible liar."

He smiles. Garrett always did spot a lie better than him. Despite being caught, he still feels a touch of pride in him. If it keeps him conscious, all the better.

The rest of the way back to Stonemarket is easier now he knows the terrain better. Avoiding Watch patrols is as easy as ever, as long as he keeps to the rooftops, and getting into the Clock Tower isn't a challenge.

Inside, he lays Garrett down in his bed. He's finally out. After making sure the bleeding is slowing, he starts searching for the medical supplies. They're not too hard to find and it looks like he already has everything they'll need. Not for the first time Corvo's grateful for all his experience with these types of things.

The wound isn't bad enough to need stitches, but it still needs to be cleaned and bandaged. Garrett will still need to take it easy on the climbing for a few days. Maybe a few weeks. He knows he'll have to argue with him about it whenever he wakes up. Easy, he tells himself, ignoring the if lingering in the back of his mind. Fixable. Not a death sentence. Even so, his eyes blur with barely restrained tears more than once.

Once he's finished, he checks his vitals. Fast, but steady. That's good, he reasons. Slow would be worse. He plucks the bonecharm from Garrett's pocket and slips it into his own coat as an afterthought.

He settles at the end of the bed for a moment, too anxious to leave him alone, and tries to calm down. His hands shake, now, when the hard part is over. He could have lost him. He almost did. He should find every last one of those Eelbiters. He doubts they do much for the City anyway. He'd be doing everyone a favor. Except for Garrett.

He leans forward and balances his elbows on his knees. Garrett would be furious. But he'd be safe. If they find out he's alive, they might try again. Corvo won't be there when they do. He can't come back to the City and find out something happened to him. He can't find him bled dry in some dark corner of the City. He can't lose him. But if he does this, he'll lose him anyway if he finds out -- when he finds out. Even after losing so much blood he knew what Corvo was thinking. And he asked him not to. But how can he go back home knowing he could be in danger and he could have done something to prevent it?

"Corvo?" His voice is brittle, panicked.

He sits up. "I'm right here." He stands up when Garrett tries sitting up. "Don't move, don't move," he says, pushing him back down. "We're in the Clock Tower. You're safe."

He blinks, takes a moment to let the information settle. "Thank you," he finally says.

"Any time." He means it. He suspects Garrett knows just how much.

"Not just for helping me," he says, eyes flicking to Corvo's.

He sits down on the bed again, closer than he was before. "How do you know I didn't already do it?"

"Because you're here right now." He reaches over and takes his hand. "And you wouldn't be able to look me in the eyes if you did."

He squeezes his hand, a small smile on his lips. His fingers are cold, but they always are. "I'm so glad you're alright."

He scoffs then winces. "It's going to take a little more than a thug with a knife for this city to be rid of me."

His lips twitch. "I really hope so."

"Please. It'll be a Watchman with a sword, at least."

They exchange smiles, but Corvo's fades quickly. He takes Garrett's hand in both of his. "Promise me you'll stay safe." His voice wobbles before he can get ahold of it.

It's the great stumbling block of their relationship. An impossible thing to ask for. They both know it. Their jobs come with far too much risk for either of them to promise their own safety or to lie to each other about it. Neither would really believe it anyway.

"I will be right here when you come back." It's not the promise he asked for, but his voice doesn't wobble, and he holds his gaze.

"And you know I'll always come back for you." He leans forward and kisses him on the forehead.

They can't promise each other they'll stay safe. Their jobs are too dangerous for that, and to say otherwise would be an outright lie. But they can promise to take care of each other, and to fight for each other, when things do go wrong.