AN: My first Ranger's Apprentice fic. Review.
Summary: Out of the 124,648 times he's said sorry, not once has he meant it. When he finally does, it's at a funeral.
REVISED BOOK ONE ENDING!
You lean over to the mirror, making yourself look the best you ever have in the past twenty something years. You don't want to let down your apprentice, especially after all he's done for you.
You arrive at his funeral, not meeting the nasty glares you get from his friends. Staring at his grave you feel nasty, dirty, and unwanted. You hate yourself for not feeling any grief. Not a single tear escapes your eyes, whereas his friends' eyes are red, puffy, and bloodshot.
You are not dressed in your normal dark, mottled cloak. You feel it is not appropriate. Instead, you wear a neat tunic, and crisp slacks. You are disgusted that you make an effort to dress nicely at his funeral, but you did not make an effort to treat him well while he was still alive.
A hand is on your shoulder, from one of the few people who say it is not your fault. It is Gilan.
He says a quick sorry, not meeting your eyes. You see his blue eyes red like the others', and mentally punch yourself again.
A nasty, heavy feeling weighs your heart down, as you walk through the mass of mourners. You want to kill yourself, as you still don't feel any remorse. The boy was a major impact on your life, but you still do not feel sadness.
It is time for close friends to make speeches, and you remember you are supposed to speak.
Your throat is dry, your hands weak. You can't even bear to listen to the speeches that they make. It reminds you too much of him.
Then, it is your turn.
You feel the accusing glares on your back as you walk up to the podium. You clear your throat. You can't speak.
But an impulse strikes you, and you open your mouth.
"I'm sorry."
A whisper stirs among the crowd, and you feel dirty, and you want to sink into the shadows. But you didn't bring your cloak. You cannot say anymore, but you lean down to touch his grave.
Will Treaty, Ranger. , it reads. Then the tears come. It has been so long since you last cried. Your tear ducts can barely remember what they were used for. but the liquid streams out of your eyes as you choke back a sob. A cry escapes your lips as your hand grabs some dirt from his grave.
You shudder as you remember exactly how he died. It was like a flashback, comparing his death with his father's. Almost exactly the same.
The Kalkara were closing in on you. You stare into its horrible, deadly eyes, feeling cold fear grip your heart. It is a new sensation-- never before have you felt this horrible, horrible fear.
Out of nowhere, a small figure leaps out of the darkness, a gleaming saxe knife in its hands. Will. You scream a warning, but the boy doesn't listen, and he stabs the knife into a Kalkara's heart. You shudder as a horrible scream echoes through the night, sending chills down both you and the boy's spines.
"Will!" you cry again, but again, he doesn't listen. A heavy blow in the stomach catches your apprentice off guard, and you wince as the boy doubles over in pain. The Kalkara looms over the boy, and you still cannot move to help him. You try shouting again, but this time, your voice is constricted in your throat, and you cannot speak.
You helplessly watch the boy get tossed around, bruised, cut, and you hate yourself for not being able to do anything.
But a ray of hope shines through, and you see the boy drive the knife into two of the Kalkaras' hearts. He turns, driving it into the remaining Kalkara's heart. The screams continue, those blood-chilling cries.
You try to ignore them, as you gain the ability to move again. You run to the boy, who has collapsed on the ground, breathing in small, painful gasps. You put an arm under the boy's head, turning it to see his brown eyes. They are worn and tired, full of pain and agony. You do not cry, but feel a heavy weight being thrown onto your already heavy heart. He coughs, trying to speak.
"Halt..." he croaks, as if each word is killing him slowly. You lean over to hear the words clearly.
"Yes, Will?" you ask, nervously.
"Tell everyone--" he coughs, and continues, "Tell Horace he was a good friend. Tell Jenny she was a bright, happy light that lighted my life. Tell George I didn't know him much, but he was a good guy. Tell Gil he was an excellent man to work with. And-- tell Alyss I love her."
You nod, your heart breaking into small, tiny pieces. "Halt-- thank you." You look up, confused.
"For what?" you ask, thinking you haven't done anything to help this boy.
"For being the father I could've had. For teaching me more than I thought I could've never learned. And-- for giving me a chance," he says quietly, and shifts his eyes.
"Will-- I'm sorry. For letting you down," you say, your voice cracking, thick from sadness.
"You have nothing... to apologize for," he whispers, and the light in his eyes start to fade away.
"Will-- no! No, Will! Don't die on me, boy!" you yell, and carry him back to the horses.
"Come on!" you will to the horses, as you ride into the night, desperately trying to get Will back to Araluen.
You are no longer on a horse.
You are on a chair, in front of Redmont's chief healer, Josef. You cannot listen to the man sitting in front of you. You zoned out after that first, heart shattering sentence.
"He is dead."
You know the boy had suffered from many wounds, wounds that were killing him slowly as he fought the Kalkara for you. Like his father, Daniel, he suffered from many wounds, but the exhaustion was what killed them. You owe your life to the two men, both now deceased. The cruel irony seemed to slap you in the face repeatedly.
And now you stand in front of the grave. You said no more than two words. Will would've been disappointed in you.
So, for the sake of him, you say more, your gruff voice, thick with tears, echoes through the forest.
"Will saved my life. Like his father, he lost his own life to save mine. Such wonderful lives-- wasted on a pitiful man, unable to keep anyone alive. So, for his sake, I will tell you his final goodbyes." You meet the eyes of every name, purpose in your hard gaze.
"To Horace, you were a good friend. To Jenny, you were a bright, happy light that lighted Will's life. To George, Will didn't know you much, but you were a good guy. To Gilan, you were an excellent man for him to work with. And, to Alyss--", you paused, meeting the puffy gray eyes of the tall, slender girl.
"He loved you."
You see tears spring into her eyes, as you turn away.
You lean over to the boy's grave again, and whisper;
"I'm sorry."
And out of the 124,648 times you said sorry, this one time, you truly did mean it.