Looking up from his paper, Crowley smiled at the figure that stepped into his office. "Morning, Gilan."
"Crowley," the younger Ranger replied with a stiff nod. Crowley's forehead creased as he took in Gilan's tight face and rigid posture - unusual for the typically easygoing young man.
"So, why did you want to see me?" The Commandant questioned lightly, setting his paperwork to the side as he focused his full attention on the other Ranger.
"I'm here to ask for leave. To Skandia."
Crowley blinked. Considering for only a moment, he shook his head.
"No."
"Why not?" Gilan answered flatly, crossing his arms with a frown.
"Because you're needed here. Wars take cleanup - you know this, Gilan," Crowley answered with exasperation, gesturing emphatically to the stacks of paperwork that scattered his desk.
"I got Foldar," Gilan argued. "I'd say I did my share of 'cleanup'."
The Commandant sighed. "You did get Foldar, and you did a fine job of it." Lifting his eyes to meet Gilan's, he continued, not without pain, "I know what this is about... But I can't keep losing my Rangers to go escapade around Skandia."
Gilan flinched, but Crowley pressed on, knowing he had to make his point. "How would you even find Halt? And even if by some miracle you did stumble across him, do you think he'd be happy to see you running away from your duties?"
"Will getting taken was my fault," the young Ranger bit out - the hurt, guilt, and loneliness of the last few months painfully obvious in the single phrase. A phrase that Gilan had told himself a thousand times, Crowley was sure.
The thought made the older man ache. "You have to stop telling yourself that," Crowley said, even knowing that the words would fall on deaf ears. "I can't let you go to Skandia, Gilan. I'm sorry."
For the briefest moment, a small light of rebellion kindled in Gilan's eyes before they dimmed just as quickly. "Yes, sir," Gilan said dully, shoulders slumping as he turned to leave.
The response alone was testament to Gilan's feeling of defeat. Rangers addressed each other by their first names; "sir" was an absent slip to Gilan's Battleschool training.
Gilan was Halt's apprentice - he was bright, intelligent, skilled, and trained as they come.
He didn't slip.
Crowley gnawed his lip, not liking the thought or the implications that came with it. "Gilan?" He called, and the younger man stopped, raising an eyebrow in a gesture that was so painfully reminiscent of Halt that Crowley felt his heart ache again. "Be careful, all right?"
Gilan nodded. Crowley waited until the office door clicked shut before wearily scrubbing at his face with a hand.
He missed Halt.
"Mission papers?" Gilan said briskly, holding out his hand expectantly.
Crowley looked Gilan over with a critical eye, hovering the report for a moment before slowly handing it over. "You look like you've lost some weight."
Gilan gave a small, one shouldered shrug as he flipped through the papers. "Maybe," he said finally. Crowley didn't need to know about the way his tunics hung looser over his shoulders or the extra holes he had been forced to make in his scabbards to simply keep them on his gaunt frame. Lifting his head to meet Crowley's eyes, Gilan continued in a lighter tone, "Is this it? Anything specific I should know? They don't have a man-killer raccoon or a herd of trained spiders?"
"You have to look after yourself, Gilan," the Commandant said shortly. "Do you even sleep anymore?" The dark bags under the younger man's eyes said otherwise, and Crowley felt concern spark within him once more.
"I've scheduled a nap a week from today," Gilan answered airily, a glimmer of humor in his eyes. Despite himself, Crowley relaxed slightly - he recognized this side of Gilan. Even with some missing sleep and dropped weight, Crowley would much prefer this Gilan than the clipped, rigid one from several months ago.
"Point taken," Crowley said with a quirked smile. "In all seriousness, though - don't run yourself into the ground. Halt will end me if you get hurt."
A wistful smile pulled at Gilan's lips. "I'm fine. Just busy, is all." Nodding at the report, he continued, "I'll read through this tonight and be off early tomorrow morning. I'll probably not see you..."
"Safe travels, Gilan," Crowley answered with understanding. Rangers weren't the type to hang around for pleasantries when there was a job to be done. "Be careful, understand?"
"Always am," the younger man replied, giving his most winning smile as he strode through the door.
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Strongly disagree!" He called after the younger Ranger's retreating back.
Gilan's laughter could be heard from clear down the hall.
"I'm so glad you're back, Halt," Crowley said earnestly from where he sat across from the other Ranger. Both of them were nursing mugs of coffee in front of the fire in Crowley's office. Will, exhausted from the day's events, had gone to bed; Halt had taken the chance to reconnect with his oldest friend.
Now, Halt gave Crowley a small frown. "How have things been here?"
"...Hard." Crowley's smile faded as he idly picked at a loose thread on his tunic. "We both know all too well how messy a war's aftermath is. Everyone's performed admirably, but we're tired."
Halt's eyes dropped. "I'm sorry."
The Commandant's eyes widened as he realized how his words had come across, and he hastened to reassure his friend. "I'm not blaming you! You'll never know how glad I am that you're home, but I understand why you did what you did, Halt."
"I don't regret what I did, but I'm still sorry for the situation I left you in."
Crowley gave a half shrug and a weak grin. "We did all right." Giving a meaningful nod in Halt's direction, he continued, "Speaking of doing all right, Gilan did a stellar job at doing away with Foldar."
"I knew he would," the grizzled Ranger answered quietly. "Gil's doing all right? You've been keeping on eye on him?"
"Naturally. Had him check in every month or so." Crowley considered briefly before carefully continuing, "Gilan's fine, really. Guilt-ridden, lonely, not quite himself, but he's fine. Better still once he's seen you and Will." The man went quiet for a moment before meeting Halt's dark eyes. "Especially Will."
Halt held Crowley's gaze for several long moments. The grizzled Ranger was all too aware of the vulnerable state his former apprentice had been in when he'd left. Capable as the younger man was, it was easy to forget Gilan's youngness; the most junior Ranger in the Corps, and truly, not too much older than an apprentice. "We'll pay him a visit on our way home," Halt decided, struck with a sudden, sharp surge of longing to see his former apprentice.
Crowley gave a nod of approval, feeling a peaceful warmth creep through him - one that had nothing to do with the hot coffee. "Halt?"
"Hmm?" Halt hummed with a raised, questioning eyebrow.
"Welcome back."
Thanks for reading! I've always imagined that this is a situation that Gilan and Crowley would be able to relate over, as Crowley has experienced having a mentor banished.