There were few things worse, Will was convinced, than the crippling, inescapable awkwardness that besieged him and Halt the next day. It started from the moment Will walked into the main room for breakfast the next morning, and it only got worse from there. Because as soon as he walked in, he immediately made eye contact with Halt.

The two of them stared at each other for several uninterrupted seconds. Will frantically contemplated if it would be better to speak or say silent. What would I even say? Good morning? How are you? Wait, of course I can't say that! He looks awful, I can't ask 'how are you'!

As Will opened and shut his mouth a few times, feeling sickeningly like a suffocating goldfish and wishing more than anything that he had never woken up that morning, Gilan finally broke their standoff with a cheery,

"Morning, Will! Sleep well?"

The relief that ran through Will was heady. He nodded several more times than were needed and responded, in a tone that was too high-pitched and eager to be anything but fake, "G'morning! I slept just fine, thanks! How about you?"

Gilan groaned theatrically. "Downright terrible. This one over here-" Gilan jerked his thumb over at Crowley, who Will only then noticed, "decided to take not just the couch, but all the pillows and the spare blanket to boot!"

"Think of it as field training," Crowley offered from his spot at the table where he sat, sipping coffee. "You'd have to sleep on the ground just like that on a mission."

"Okay, but consider: this is not a mission."

Will snorted.

"Don't snort, Will, you sound like Tug."

Halt's automatic, absentminded reproof - one Will had heard a dozen times over by now - would have gone by with nothing more than a good-natured huff and an obedient "Yes, Halt" on any other day. Today, though, Will froze, wide-eyed gaze darting over to his master as the room fell completely silent. For his part, Halt stiffened a fraction of a second later, his eyes flicking to Will and then back to his coffee cup in the only show of tension he would give.

The room vibrated in silence.

Finally, Gilan again came to the rescue. He swooped over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "Hey Will, want some coffee?"

"Y-Yes, please."

There was again a beat of silence as Gilan poured Will a cup, then thrust it into Will's hands before taking a draught of his own. He sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes as he swallowed. "Ah, Halt always has the good stuff. Hey Halt, where'd you get this from? It sure as hell beats the swill that passes for coffee over in my fief."

"The Turks have a particularly fine brand of it, I've found," Halt said, and then said nothing more - despite Gilan's repeated attempts to get him to elaborate on that. In the midst of it all, Crowley got up to tend to breakfast and served it. They all sat down around the table and began eating.

As he ate, Will couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, but whenever he looked up, no one was looking at him. He began growing more antsy as the meal progressed and the feeling continued, making him unable to take part in the tepid conversation going on between Crowley, Gilan, and occasionally Halt. As he got down to his last bite and the feeling increased, Will swiftly looked up from his meal and straight across the table. Then, for the second time that morning, he locked eyes with Halt.

It was just as awkward as the first time around.

"Would you like seconds?" Halt asked after a moment, nodding towards Will's almost empty plate.

Caught off guard, Will stammered incoherently before finally managing, "N-No, uh, sir. No, I'm - that's - fine. Thanks."

Halt examined him a moment longer before nodding and looking back towards Crowley and Gilan. Will loosed a sigh of relief. He frowned down at his plate, dreading the rest of the day. If it were already this awkward, just how much worse was it going to get?

After breakfast was finished and cleaned up, Crowley made the executive decision to take Will outside for training himself. When Halt made a protest that Will was supposed to do the chores, Crowley rolled his eyes, made a comment about Halt needing to do his fair share for once, and ushered Will outside.

"So, Will," Crowley said once this had been accomplished, "what does Halt have you doing these days?"

Will looked entreatingly to Gilan, who had followed them out, but received nothing except a raise of an eyebrow. Will shrugged a little helplessly. "Archery?" he offered.

"'Archery'?" Crowley repeated, raising an eyebrow in turn. "Yes, I should dearly hope that Halt would have a Ranger's apprentice practicing archery. I meant, what exactly does he have you practicing? Surely he has certain exercises?"

"Oh, yes," Will said, flushing a little. He quickly outlined some of them, Crowley listening attentively and nodding along, with the occasional skeptical look or grimace when some detail didn't quite fit his liking. Once he was done, Crowley set him on a few of the lighter ones, gracefully bypassing all of the more physically taxing ones so well that Will was halfway through an exercise before he even realized it.

He turned towards Crowley as soon as the thought hit him, lowering his bow. Crowley tilted his head inquisitively from where he sat on the porch. He was in Halt's chair, and his posture and expression were so like Halt that it was eerie.

"Did Halt-" Will began, then winced as he abruptly decided mentioning Halt was probably not a good idea.

"Probably," said Crowley dryly.

"No, I meant - oh, never mind." Will huffed and turned back to his exercise.

From where he sat next to Crowley, Gilan's called, in a comedically terrible imitation of Halt: "Put some back into it, boy!"

Will started laughing, and before long Gilan and Crowley joined in.

"So," Gilan began, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously, "we should probably... talk. About everything."

Will remained where he was, sitting with his back against a tree, gazing mindlessly at the forest around him. They were a little ways from Halt's house; Gilan had taken Will out into the forest to train him in unseen movement several hours ago. It was now past midday, the sun just beginning to descend towards the horizon. Gilan had finally allowed Will to take a break after several hours of uninterrupted training, and Will was extremely grateful for it. His body was still far from peak condition, still undernourished and out of shape.

"Is it really so hard to go a single day without talking about my problems? I'm sick of having to have these kinds of conversations."

"Alright," said Gilan easily, stretching his arms out from his place beside Will. "We don't need to talk about it. I'm sure whatever Crowley said last night was enough."

Will twitched. "You could say that."

Gilan nodded. He was quiet for a bit, eyes wandering around their surroundings, picking up all the little things that Rangers were trained to see: the flittering of birds, the miniscule shifting of leaves, the slanting of the sunlight, dappling leaves and branches. Will breathed in, taking in the peace of their silence. It had been a long time since he had felt comfortable with another, let alone at peace. His relationship was Halt was far from peaceful, and there was no one else that he was close with who even knew what he had been through. With Gilan, Will was finally at ease.

"You know..." Gilan said some time later - ten, twenty, or even thirty minutes later. "Do you... how much have you forgotten about yourself, Will?"

Having expected something to do with his fight with Halt, or even the usual well-meaning questions about how he was doing, Will was thrown. He paused, trying to think up a response. How much had he forgotten?

"Would I even know?"

Gilan nodded slowly. "You might not," he said. "Then, how's this. Let's play a game."

A grin sparked on Will's face. It had been awhile since he'd last played a game. He had always loved them at the Ward, and the years had not changed that. "What are the rules?"

Gilan laughed at that. "Don't get your hopes up, it's not competitive. It's simple, we just ask each other questions."

Although dubious, Will decided he would give it a go. "Alright, who starts?"

"Why not you? Ask whatever you'd like. I can't promise an answer, but I'll do my best," Gilan said cheerfully.

Will thought for a moment, chewing on his cheek in concentration. "Um... have you ever thought about getting married?"

"Married?" Gilan gasped. "For shame, Will! I'm not that old."

Although Will did not know Gilan's exact age, he was obviously over 20. Many people married as teenagers - Gilan was certainly not too young. Will gave him an unimpressed look. "You didn't answer the question."

"I'd hoped you wouldn't notice. Fine. I have thought about it, yes. But, well, there's only been two girls I've ever considered that with, and it just... it would never have worked." Gilan lifted a shoulder. "If I find a good woman in my own fief, who knows? Maybe you'll wake up one morning to a wedding invitation. My turn! Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Will, taken aback both by the abrupt whiplash of Gilan's statements and the sudden question, floundered for a moment. Finally, he managed, "You couldn't have come up with something original?"

As taken aback as he was, it came out more exasperated than he had intended. Gilan seemed to take offense, narrowing his eyes at Will. "Listen here, Will, I might not care about a little teasing, but there's no need for disrespect. I don't have to bring Crowley in, do I?"

"No, no!" Will said quickly, holding his hands up. "Sorry, Gilan, I just- hang on, why are you laughing!?"

Gilan was indeed laughing, and quite hard at that. "Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't resist. You are way too easy to trick like that, Will."

Will's mouth fell open, betrayed. "Look, I'm not going to risk it! I hear Crowley's name, I-"

"What's that about my name?" came a new voice, followed by a new body appearing right in front of them. Will jumped, startled, and even Gilan flinched a little. Crowley shook his head in mock dismay. "You really call yourselves Rangers? If I were your enemy, you'd be dead now."

"If you were our enemy," Gilan shot back, "we'd be dead anyway, so there'd really be no point in even trying."

Crowley sighed. "The things I put up with..."

"Um, Mr. Crowley, sir? Did you want something?"

Crowley and Gilan both gave Will exasperated looks, albeit for different reasons.

"Oh, so him you'll call sir, but not me?" Gilan said. "I see how it is."

"Look, only one of you is my Commandant here, so-"

"So that gives you leave to disrespect one of your Commandant's Rangers?" Crowley asked, frowning at Will. "I didn't think I would see an apprentice addressing an experienced Ranger so flippantly."

Will jerked. "Sorry, sir! And, um, Gilan, sir- wait."

Just as he'd thought, Crowley and Gilan were once again laughing at his expense. He glared at them, but it was half-hearted. "Do you really have to keep doing that?"

"It's funny!" Gilan defended, still laughing. He wiped a hand over his eyes. "Seriously, it's new every time."

"Well it's certainly not for me," Will grumbled.

"Sorry, sorry," Gilan said, smiling. "Well, Crowley, was there something you came over here for?"

Crowley heaved himself down onto the ground next to them, leaning back against a tree and tipping his head back to look at the interlacing of foliage above them. He took a few seconds to respond, most likely enjoying the scenery around him. As the Ranger Corps' Commandant, he had to live and work in the palace; as a Ranger, being confined to a building like that must be frustrating, Will thought. He could understand why Halt had refused the position. He would have, as well.

"Not particularly. I just finished having a conversation with Halt so I thought I'd get out here and see what trouble you were getting up to."

"Unfortunately not much," Gilan said, sighing. "It's pretty limited when I haven't had the time to stock up on my usual troublemaking supplies."

"Troublemaking supplies?" Will echoed, a little dubiously.

"Yeah," Gilan said. He cocked a brow. "What, you don't have any?"

"Why are you asking that like it's abnormal not to have them?"

"Because it is! Right, Crowley?"

Will rolled his eyes, knowing Crowley would never agree with Gilan, but Crowley responded without even missing a beat, "Of course."

Will stared, mouth open and fully expecting the two of them to once again crack up and reveal the joke. After a full five seconds without that happening, he finally asked incredulously, "Are you serious?"

Crowley finally cracked a grin. "Oh, I'm not. I have no idea what Gilan's talking about. Knowing him, though, he probably actually has 'troublemaking supplies,' whatever that means to him."

"I usually have them at my home fief," Gilan said. "When I was apprenticed to Halt, that was here, but now of course they're at my own fief. What I wouldn't give to have them now..."

Will pursed his lips, still tempted to find out what, exactly, the term 'troublemaking supplies' actually meant, but Crowley's words from earlier came back and he found himself focusing on them instead. "Crowley, sir - you said you just spoke with Halt?"

Crowley made an affirming sound. "I did. Why?"

"Um, if it's alright... what about?"

He wondered if Crowley would simply dismiss him, but the Ranger nodded at him in understanding. "Just catching up, for the most part."

"Is he..." Will hesitated. He stole a glance at Gilan, who was watching him sympathetically. "Um, is he, y'know, upset?"

Crowley blew out a breath, swinging his jaw from side to side as he thought. He seemed to be contemplating something, and Will wondered if he was trying to decide whether he should tell Will the truth or not.

"He is," Crowley said at last. He spoke carefully, like he was measuring each word. "But he's not holding a grudge against you. Mind you, you should still apologize."

Crowley gave Will a gaze full of intent. Will ducked his head, averting his eyes to stare at a beetle crawling across the ground in front of him. Not for the first time, he remembered that Crowley and Halt were best friends. Crowley cared about Halt's well-being, probably more than he cared about Will's.

"I will," Will said, meaning it.

"Good." Crowley closed his eyes, shifting his sitting position. He risked a furtive glance behind them and lowered his voice, despite them being more than a mile away from Halt's house. "Mostly, Halt is upset because he doesn't know how to help you."

"That's not - that's not his job," Will said quietly. "He's not obligated to do that."

Crowley shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Whether Halt sees it as his duty or not, though, he wants to help."

"He's not the only one," Gilan broke in. "We do, too."

Will turned away, his chest roiling uncomfortably with emotion. He raked sharp nails over his arm, using the pain to keep in control. "You don't need to."

"One, we kind of do. You're not doing too great," Gilan said bluntly. "Two, we want to, Will."

Will's nails dug in deeper. You don't, he thought. You think you do, but once you start - once you realize what I'm really like, how hopeless I really am - you'll regret it. I'll just be a burden to you, another obligation you feel you have to fill.

"Come on," Crowley said, setting a hand on Will's shoulder. "I know there's no convincing you right now. The sun's set, I know Halt was preparing dinner for us. Let's go in and eat, shall we?"

Will nodded mutely, allowing himself to be led back to the house.

Dinner was another tense, awkward affair. Will had eaten lunch outside with Gilan in the middle of their unseen movement training, so he had nearly forgotten how bad breakfast had been. This, if his memory was correct (which he honestly wasn't sure about anymore), was only slightly better.

Halt was still quiet, barely speaking at all. Even when Crowley brought up Gallican politics, which always got Halt's ire up ("They're complete fools!" he would rant. "They're going to fall into anarchy in half a decade if they continue to allow their parliament to reign unchecked!"), Halt only gave a severe frown and muttered something into his beard. Crowley and Gilan ended up carrying most of the bulk of the conversation once more, with Will only daring to make the most timid of attempts to join in. Every time he spoke, Halt's eyes would flick over to him, making Will more and more reluctant to speak again.

When they had finished eating, Crowley casually announced that he was going to go check the horses and left. Gilan hesitated, looking between Will and the door. Will made a quick, instinctive motion with his hand to attract Gilan's gaze and looked at him beseechingly. Please don't leave me alone with Halt.

Gilan half opened his mouth, hesitating, before finally giving a minute shake of his head. He met Will's eyes, gave a regretful half-smile, turned around, and was gone.

Leaving Will and Halt alone.

It was almost exactly 24 hours since the fight, Will thought distractedly, fiddling with his spoon and poking at the few drops of broth left in his bowl. If you had asked him before this happened, he would never have thought that 24 hours could create such a gap between two humans. Yet it was there now, a yawning abyss of guilt and shame and anger. Will knew he should make the first advance - he was the one who had wronged Halt, after all - but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he was silent.

The abyss gaped wider.

"Are you still hungry?" Halt asked. "There's some more stew if you want it."

Will jerked, torn from his thoughts. For a brief moment he met Halt's eyes, then he tore his gaze away and went back to staring at the table. He shook his head; then, remembering that Halt liked to be answered with words, he stammered out a "No thank you, sir."

The distant sound of cricket chirps filled Will's ears. His fidgeting became more pronounced, his nerves surging higher. All of his guilt over what he'd done and how he'd treated Halt was beginning to suffocate him. The horrible way he'd treated Halt that entire day, the contemptuous way he'd gone about Halt's teaching, the awful words he'd spoken... the entire day was a day of nothing but remorse and shame. Those final words he had spoken to Halt, the ones that had made Halt leave, were so terrible Will could scarcely even think about them.

And as to how Halt must have felt hearing them... Will didn't even want to think about that. His own shame was enough.

As the silence stretched on, Will fidgeted with his spoon a little more before finally daring to look at Halt. As he did so, his soul twinged, as if in remonstrance. Look, it seemed to say. Look at this man you have hurt, yet are too self-centered to even think of. Look at him.

Will looked.

Halt was watching him. As their eyes met, Halt maintained the gaze. His face held its usual façade of inexpressiveness, but today Will could see it wavering. He examined Halt's face and realized, for the first time, how tired Halt looked. The lines on Halt's face were etched in even deeper, his skin a filigree of exhaustion. There were bags under Halt's eyes - eyes that were narrow and half-closed with weariness - and his hair had not been that grey before Skandia.

"Halt," Will blurted, "I'm so sorry!"

Halt's eyebrows raised, mouth partially opening, but Will barreled on.

"I should never have done those things, or said any of what I said to you, it was so, so rude and - and disrespectful, and - and just - just horrible, and I was like that the whole day and I never should've done it at all but I just couldn't stop and I know it's no excuse but I'm just so sorry, Halt! I-"

Halt had abruptly stood, facing Will, and Will's impromptu monologue fizzled out into silence. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as he watched Halt. Was Halt angry? Was he going to punish Will now?

"Come here," Halt said softly.

Swallowing, Will stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He straightened, bracing himself, and took one step, two steps, three steps towards Halt-

And was swept into Halt's arms.

Will froze, brain struggling to compute what was going on. Halt's arms tightened, pulling him closer.

"I forgive you, Will."

A sob tore out of his throat before Will could think to stop it. He tried to turn away, his every instinct rebelling against being seen, being heard like this - open, unguarded, vulnerable - but Halt didn't let him go. He kept Will close, his hand running through Will's hair soothingly, his heartbeat steady as Will cried. As Will choked out more broken, stammered apologies, Halt only responded with forgiveness, over and over again, until at last Will's sobs petered out into nothing more than occasional hiccups.

"Will," Halt said as Will sniffled against his chest, "do you love me?"

Will stiffened. "I..."

He did. He didn't. He hated Halt and loved him at the same time, and yet there were days when he felt nothing other than indifference. He was ashamed and guilty and angry all at once, he was heartbroken and infuriated and so, so longing for Halt that the whiplash caught even Will in its crossfire.

There was only one answer that Will knew with certainty. It was the only answer he was terrified to give. He opened his mouth, set to lie, but his soul twinged again and he shut his mouth against it. His heart was pounding. He knew he had to answer - knew what he had to answer - but the strength to answer was missing.

Halt's hand stroked over his hair. "Will," he said. His voice was gentle.

"I don't know," he admitted, half a whisper. "But I do know..."

His voice failed him. His courage failed him, too, and he floundered. How could he say this? How could he?

Halt was still holding him. Somehow, Will took strength from that, and he found the courage to say what he must.

"I do know that you're my- my d-dad. Even though Daniel had me, you're my real father. And I'm your son. If you'll... if you'll have me."

He closed his eyes, waiting for Halt to release him, to throw him away and cast him out, just as he'd been waiting for months now.

Halt released him. Will fell back, humiliated, tears springing to his eyes as all his fears were proved right. He turned, ready to run from the house and never come back, but a hand stopped him. It settled onto his shoulder, pulling him back around to face Halt. Will kept his head down, eyes averted.

"Will, look at me."

Mutely, Will shook his head. He could not bear to.

That same hand took his chin and tilted it upwards to look at Halt. Will's eyes stubbornly refused to follow. Halt moved his hand from Will's chin and set it on Will's cheek instead, his thumb wiping away a tear with infinite gentleness. Startled, Will's eyes met Halt's.

"I already thought of you as my son," Halt said quietly. "Did you think I committed treason for an apprentice? No, Will. I committed treason for my son."

"But I, I... I don't deserve that," Will whispered.

"What does that matter?"

Will hesitated. Of course it mattered. "It-"

"What does it matter what you deserve," Halt said steadily, "when I have decided that you are my son anyway?"

Will's eyes were filling with tears. "Halt..."

"Oh, come here," Halt said, tone gruff. He tugged Will into another hug, holding him tightly.

There was quiet for awhile. After the past two day's turbulence, Will finally was able to breathe. His head was spinning with everything that had just happened. He had been so terrified to tell Halt that, and for nothing? Halt thought of him as his son? Despite everything Will had been through and had done, both to Halt and to others? Despite all his mistakes, despite how difficult he was to be around, despite how terrible he had acted - despite saying something he had known, deep down, would hurt Halt more than anything else?

"Well," Halt said dryly, interrupting Will's thoughts, "I hope this is enough to finally get into your thick head that I'm not throwing you out."

Will gave a watery chuckle. "Y-You might have to remind me a few times."

"Remind yourself," came Halt's deadpan response. "I've had more than enough heart-to-hearts lately."

Will huffed, but didn't take offense. "Crowley?"

"Who else?"

"Um, Gilan?"

"That wasn't an actual question," Halt grumbled, "but yes. Him, too. I swear, the entire Ranger Corps is going to become a bunch of emotional softies."

"You say that like you aren't one yourself," Will said, venturing a smile.

Halt glared. "This 'softie' is about three seconds away from having you scrub the entire floor twice over."

"Sorry, sorry," Will said, but wasn't able to keep his smile from growing wider. Halt was back, being his normal, gruffly threatening self once more. Will hadn't realized how much he had missed it. "Say, Halt?"

Halt groaned. "Don't tell me we're back with the questions, now."

"Just the one, I promise."

"Fine. Just one."

"Does this mean I get to call you dad?"

A/N: that last part definitely wasn't based off of my small group's discussion of the parable of the prodigal son, nope, no sirree-