AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Reuploaded
The events happen way before the series, when Halt and Crowley are in their early twenties or so. Therefore I took somewhat of liberty in describing them.
And, this is my first try at writing a story of this type, so it will most likely suck xD
Warnings: Mature themes/sex will take place later. BoyxBoy, so... don't read unless you want to *smirk*
Disclaimers: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice or the characters.
Enjoy, hopefully =]
Oh, and italics indicate character thoughts.

Prologue
Halt's eyes were uncharacteristically wide and concerned as he stared at the quivering, sweaty body on the bed. He turned to the healer, an older man with rapidly thinning hair and a forehead lined with wrinkles.

"Will he make it?" Halt asked quietly.

The wrinkles on the healer's face appeared to deepen as he frowned. "I've told you, Halt. The fever is deeply rooted and shows no signs of going down yet. But Crowley is a strong young man, and he might pull through."

Halt sighed. He'd asked the question countless times that morning, but each time he had hoped the answer would change. Now he struggled to hold on to that hope. It seemed to be slipping beyond his grasp. Sympathetic, but unable to do anything else, the older man patted Halt's shoulder and left the room once more.

Halt knelt on the floor next to his friend's bed. He might pull through. Might!

Crowley's face, usually so jovial and glowing, was rash-red, and drops of perspiration beaded on his upper lip. He had stopped convulsing and now just lay there in a questionable state of conciousness, shivering periodically. Halt laid his hand gently on the other man's forehead. My God, he's burning! Crowley gave a sudden jerk, perhaps in reaction to the hand on his head, and an animal moan escaped his trembling lips.

Halt stroked his damp, sticky hair, whispering soft reassurance to his old friend. It pained him deeply to see Crowley in such discomfort, but the healer had refused Halt's request to even wash the sweat from the other Ranger's brow. The virus had to be burned away, he said.
It wasn't fair.

Halt felt his eyes grow moist, but he did not care. He took Crowley's hand, wishing for some way to ease his pain. He was no healer, but he could see the terrible, ravaging affects the fever had on his friend. He had seen people in this condition before, and most of them did not survive.

But Halt couldn't imagine Crowley dying. Healthy, athletic young men like this could not be there one day and gone the next. It just didn't make sense, Halt told himself. He could not imagine never seeing Crowley's infectious smile again, never hearing the hearty laughter that sprang so easily from his throat, never having a companion he could trust to guard his back...

Certainly Halt was not one prone to strong emotion, and he certainly never showed it. But a seed of doubt and desperation was blooming in his mind.

He'll never know how I feel about him...

Halt leaned over Crowley, bringing his mouth close to his ear as he continued to stroke his fevered hand.

"I love you, Crowley," he whispered, a single tear tracing down his tanned cheek.

"I love you. I love you..."