Authors note: Didn't change much here either. Enjoy! :)

You did this to the boy, Ranger. 15 years ago, you killed my son. They told me his body was lost. But I went. I looked. And I found him. You left him to the foxes and crows, you heartless bitch. And maybe I'll do the same to your boy. I've waited years for this. Hoping you'd spit out a kid of your own so I could strangle him in his crib. Though you'll never know the loss of a father, I hope you drown in your own suffering, knowing this boy's blood is on your hands. I'm glad he didn't die from the poison. That would have been too kind for what you deserve. You took my son from me, and now I'll take the closest thing you have. And you will never find his body until I want you to.

The letter wasn't signed.

They had rushed back to Halt's cottage to find it empty of light and life. The door swung broken on its hinges, and the table and chairs were overturned. The rain had come in with the wind, leaving everything soaking, and the fire had been reduced to coals. It felt like a murder scene. The letter had been on the table, pinned down by Will's throwing knife. Of course, they had looked, sure that Will couldn't be too far gone, but there were no signs. No tracks. Nothing at all to follow. It was like some phantom had dropped out of the sky and stolen the boy. Halt wrote to Crowley at daybreak, and he sent a messenger bird. This time he had a reply by late afternoon the following day.

Come see me Halt. It's a matter of urgency. Bring Gilan. -C

***The Baron's office***

Halt was drowning. He felt ripped apart like his insides were exposed to the whole world. Suffocating. Aching. Like no amount of air would let him breathe. Will was gone. Likely dead. It was the worst possible thing. And Gilan. Gilan was broken. He hadn't looked Halt in the eyes since they lost Will. And that hurt just as much. It felt like both his sons were gone. He'd lost them both. And he was angry at himself. At the sun for shining, and the birds for chirping. He felt violated by how the world carried on as if nothing had happened.

"Halt."

Halt didn't look up. He didn't even flinch. Hunched on a wooden chair in the Baron's office, he stared at the floor in silence. His arse ached from all the sitting around. And his heart hurt worse.

"Have you eaten today?"

A feather-light touch brushed his shoulders, and a hand appeared under his chin, forcing him to look up and into Lady Pauline's gray-blue eyes.

He said nothing to her, but her arms were around him instantly. She sat on his lap. The chair creaked under their combined weight.

"You need to eat and sleep, Halt. This isn't good. Will wouldn't want this."

Will wouldn't want to have been abandoned and left to die at the hands of some crazed lunatic. Will wouldn't have wanted to be poisoned. There were many things Will wouldn't want. And Halt thought the last thing Will would care about was whether or not the man responsible for his situation had eaten today. He felt tears swell in his eyes but blinked them away before they could fall.

"When's Arald getting here?" he gruffed.

Pauline sighed and ran her hand through his hair. "He'll be here soon. Will you at least have some coffee?"

He shook his head. Pauline sighed and traced her fingers across his jaw, lingering for a moment more. Then, she got up and left. She was back a moment later with the Baron in tow. Halt heard them enter, silent and somber as they were. The Baron groaned as he lowered himself into a plush couch, facing Halt. He patted his knees a few times and shuffled around, seemingly unsure how to start.

"Ahem. Halt." He said at last, "I see you'll be leaving us for a few days?"

Halt just nodded, and Pauline winced. The damned tears sprang back to his, and he looked out the window to disguise them. It was raining again. Seemed only fitting.

"Have to see Crowley." He said, "About the situation." He gestured at the stack of paperwork on the Baron's desk. Lot of paperwork when you lose people. A lump rose in his throat, and he didn't trust himself to speak again. He just kept looking out at the rain.

"I see." Came the Baron's pained reply. "I suppose this means the business with that assassin is over?"

"I suppose."

There was a long silence in the room.

"I'm sorry, Halt. I know what the boy meant to you."

Halt said nothing. The wind whistled in and scattered the papers around. A collection of colorful feathers clattered to the floor. Pauline stooped to pick them up, and as she did, she grasped Halt's hand. He didn't react to her touch. Instead, he took the opportunity to stand and leave before either of them could see the tears that had finally spilled over.

***The castle stables***

Gilan sat on the damp earth, leaning against the wet wood of the castle stables, shivering in the cold wind that stank of horse shit and rotting hay. It was another grisly morning. He nursed a cup of long cold coffee, staring out at the bent trees and gray skies.

Halt was in the Baron's office somewhere. Sorting the details of their trip to see Crowley. Even though technically Halt was requested, not Gilan, he couldn't bare to sit idle when he was the cause of all this. They would go together to see Crowley and explain. And then they would look for Will again.

"Don't sit in the rain, Gil. You'll catch your death." Halt was there suddenly, dragging him up and into the stables. Abelard and Blaze nickered a greeting as they entered. Tug stood silent and melancholic.

As he looked at the sad little pony, Gilan felt a fresh wave of guilt. All this was his fault, after all. If only he had just stayed with Will. If only he had listened to Halt.

"Stop beating yourself up." Halt's gruff voice came from the gloom, "Won't help."

He looked up at his former mentor, avoiding his eyes. Halt looked worn and weary. Like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. Probably hadn't. Gilan tipped his coffee out onto the grass.

They rode out, battling the rain as they went. For a long while, the only sounds were the horses' hooves on the dirt road and the unceasing rain. Eventually, wild bird songs and the rustling leaves joined in as they entered the forest. In the evening, they made camp beneath the trees, and the rain still hadn't let up. It was a miserable, cold affair. Even with the fire, they managed to keep alight. Neither of them ate. Gilan crouched miserably beside his tent, nursing the fresh coffee Halt had made him. He didn't have the stomach to drink it, but he didn't have the heart to refuse.

"I'll take the first watch," his voice came out hoarse and broken.

Halt nodded in response but didn't move from where he was, crouched beside Gilan, peering into the flames.

"Do you think he's still alive?" Gilan whispered.

Halt didn't look up. He didn't even seem like he heard the question at all. He just rose silently and went into his tent.

***Unknown location***

Will was in darkness. His body ached, and his stomach churned. Every part of him felt like he'd been Horace's personal punching bag for at least a week. The air around him reeked of mould and decay, and the ground beneath him was slippery and wet. Something huge was breathing nearby. He could smell its rancid breath. Slowly, ever so painfully, he lifted his bound hands to his face, fumbling to feel for what was blinding him, but he found nothing. He blinked. The dark remained. His training kept him quiet, though his heart pounded like a frightened bird.

"You're awake." The growling voice startled him as it came out of the black. Will didn't respond, and the speaker chuckled. "No use for any of those ranger tricks, boy. I am well accustomed to your kind."

"Who are you?" Will called out, ashamed to hear how his voice quivered.

There was another, low growling laugh. "No one of consequence."

"Why am I here?"

There was a blinding flash, and suddenly Will blinked up at a vast hulking figure an inch from his face, "Let's just say we have friends in common."

***Castle Araluen***

It was cold in Crowley's office, and the sound of the rain against the window, coupled with the howling wind made it feel even more so. Crowley had offered him coffee when he'd arrived, asking Gilan to wait outside so they could talk on on one, and he had listened silently as Halt paced the room, telling the story of the assassin in the tavern, the dead woman, and Will's subsequent disappearance. Then Halt handed him the letter they'd found pinned to the table.

Crowley read the assassin's letter, and sighed. "Perhaps it's better Gilan wasn't there. Who knows what could have happened. The assailant could have panicked and lashed out. We may have lost two Rangers."

"Gilan can handle himself."

"I don't doubt that Halt, but we don't know who we're dealing with here."

"I know who it is." Halt growled, then stalked back across the room and stabbed his finger at the letter. "Says I murdered his son? Left him out for the scavengers?"

Crowley looked grim and leaned back a little out of Halt's way.

"Someone, in particular, you've done that to?"

"No one that didn't deserve it." Snapped Halt, "Those bastards that killed Will's mother. During the war."

Crowley was silent, clearly digesting the thought. "So it's just a pissed-off father out there? No idea his son was an opportunistic thief? No one to worry about?"

Halt gave half a shrug, still seething.

Crowley leaned forward and held out a stack of letters. His eyes were dark. "Have a look at these will you?" Halt took them.

"Your assassin was carrying them when we picked him up this morning. He was-"

"You have him here?" Halt looked up sharply, "Was Will with him?

"He was alone. Trying to break in and see those Smugglers you picked up."

"The smugglers…" Halt frowned, putting the letters back on the desk. "Are they connected to this?"

"Possibly, Or possibly he was looking for a quick ticket out of Araluen."

"Has he said anything? Can I see him?"

Crowley's face darkened. "He's dead Halt. Killed himself as soon as we started asking questions. He had a poison pill under his tongue."

Halt swore viciously."Coward!" he snapped his teeth. All the pent-up rage was coming out now. He marched to the window and slammed his hands against the frame, making the glass quiver. Out in the courtyard, a few birds took flight at the noise.

There was a long silence.

Crowley tapped his fingers on the desk, and Halt remembered the letters. He stalked over and snatched them up.

"Looks like ranger's communications? War plans?" He said with a frown, observing the oak leaf symbol and Crowley's own handwriting, "How could he have come by these?"

He handed them back to Crowley.

"He didn't. It's a damn near perfect forgery." Crowley studied each of the letters, then threw them down to his desk with distaste. "If I didn't know better, even I'd think I wrote it."

He moved old books aside to lay the letters side by side across his desk and pushed open a window in the cramped office to let in a little more light. A few cobwebs came detached and floated around in the incoming wind.

"I imagine if these had fallen into the wrong hands, we would have lost the war before it started. And It's not just ranger coms being copied," He pulled out another stack of letters, "This was on one of our smugglers."

Halt took them and leafed through, then swore. "Does Duncan know about this?"