So... I'm in a weird mood for angst, though this was so awful to write I'm thinking I should just stick with humor and the more lighthearted topics. Sad and short, but I wanted to explore Halt a little more. We all know how Halt would feel if he lost Will, but I feel that we never get enough of the relationship between Halt and Gilan. Sooo... This is what happened. Tissues, everyone.
(Also, this is what happens when I write a story at midnight).
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in a river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
Halt couldn't breathe. That much he was certain of. He felt like he was drowning, his mind sluggish and unresponsive. Something must be wrong with his eyes, because he refused to believe the scene before him.
Because in the scene before him was one of his former apprentices. Dead.
Gilan stood out from the bodies of the patrol, his long mottled cloak shifting in the breeze contrasting against the rigid mail shirts of the soldiers. The wide blue eyes were open, dull and glassy, staring upward at the sky without seeing. His lean, willowy body was sprawled ungracefully on the hard ground, his head rolled slightly toward the right. Halt could see the killing wound - a long slit across his throat.
Halt fought unsuccessfully to keep the bile in his throat. He was vaguely aware of Will pulling at his arm, pleading with him to leave. He could hear the tears in the young man's voice, the unsuppressed anguish of losing a brother.
And if Will had lost a brother, then Halt had lost a son. Dully, Halt pulled his arm free of Will's grasp. "No," he said thickly, not recognizing his own voice. "I need to see... Please..."
Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother
She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh,
And life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no
Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby
"Halt..." Will began, the grief in his voice more then apparent. "It won't help."
"I need to see..."
Will finally relented, turning away from his mentor and the bodies.
Unable to decide if he felt ridiculously heavy or unbelievably light, Halt made his way toward his son's body. Kneeling beside the still figure, Halt, unable to stop himself even though he already knew the answer, placed his fingers on the thin wrist. Of course, there was no pulse. "No, no... Please, no," Halt breathed, the confirmation, however obvious, still feeling like a last light of hope being extinguished.
Gently, Halt placed his apprentice's head in his lap, carefully running his fingers through the dark blonde hair. The dull, unseeing eyes were wrong. Halt had always known those eyes to be bright, filled with light and mischief and life. Turning away, the Ranger slid them shut, seeing them in this lifeless state too much to bear.
The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I've had just enough time
A pressure on his shoulder made Halt look up. Will was there, his eyes puffy and red but his face remarkably calm. "They - they need to move him, Halt. We need to go."
Halt exhaled. Will was right, of course, but it felt wrong. Wrong to leave his apprentice in stranger's hands, wrong not to stay. But Will's grip on his arm was firm, and Halt slowly moved to get up, holding Gilan's hand until Will gently moved him away, breaking Halt's grip. Halt turned around for a last look at his son. "Goodbye, Gilan," he said softly. He felt Will squeeze his shoulder, and Halt wearily leaned on him.
A penny for my thoughts, oh, no, I'll sell 'em for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'
Unbidden, memories flashed through Halt's mind - the first time he had ever met Gilan, a small, spindly, energetic mass of flesh, smiling merrily from behind David's legs. Gilan smiling brightly as he offered Halt a plate of slightly burned bacon. Gilan proudly showing Halt the bow he had made himself. Gilan, lying motionless, looking eerily similar to Pritchard...
Halt shook his head. Will felt the movement and spoke. "He's - he's safe now." The young Ranger's voice broke.
"Good and safe." Halt replied numbly. Good and safe, Halt repeated in his mind. I'm sorry I failed you, Gilan. I'll wait with bated breath for the day I see you again, son. It can't come soon enough.
The ballad of a dove
Go with peace and love
Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket
Save 'em for a time when you're really gonna need 'em, oh
The sharp knife of a short life, oh well
I've had just enough time
So what was that? Ugh. I don't even know. I'm going to write the next chapter of I'm Not Overreacting. Check that; I'm going to go cry myself to sleep for writing such a sad story and THEN I'm going to write the next chapter of INO. I am hoping that this is a decent story, despite the topic.
Eh, just, no flames, please.
-TrustTheCloak