A/N: Italics denote song lyrics, thoughts, and flashbacks. I'm trusting you to know which is which...

Chapter Two: Those Left Behind

Every solemn moment I will treasure inside,
Even though it's hard to understand
That a silent wind can blow the candle out,
Taking everything, leaving the pain far behind.

The small crowd was gathered in the yard outside the Orphan's Ward at Castle Redmont, where a grave had been dug under the tree that had often been Will's refuge during his childhood there. Although all of Araluen was mourning the passing of their national hero, this day was exclusively for the friends he had left behind. They were all assembled now, milling around as they gradually chose seats in the group of benches and chairs that had been arranged facing the casket. The front row was already full, had been since before the rest of the mourners had even begun to arrive, for that first row was made up of the people who had known Will the longest and loved him the most.

In the first seat was Halt, with Pauline next to him. On her other side was Alyss, then Evanlyn and Horace, Gilan and Jenny, and, last but not least, George. Directly behind them was King Duncan himself, and King Sean of Clonmel, along with Crowley and a few other Rangers who had gotten to know Will well over the years. The third row was made up of Baron Arald and his wife, Redmont's battlemaster, Sir Rodney, Selethen of Arrida, Shigeru of Nihon-Ja, and some of the other Nihon-Jan commanders who had worked closely with Will in the fight against Arisaka. The healer Malcolm sat in the next row, dwarfed by Trobar, who sat beside him. On the ground at Trobar's feet was Shadow, her mismatched eyes distinctly saddened as she gazed toward the coffin. It was obvious, at least to those who were familiar with her ways, that she understood exactly why and for whom this sad scene was unfolding. Next to Trobar was Orman of Macindaw and his advisor Xander. The remainder of that row and the one behind it were taken up by Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of Skandia, along with Svengal and Gundar Hardstriker and various members of their crews who had known Will. They had all arrived together on Gundar's ship Wolfwill, both because it was the fastest ship in all of Skandia, and because it had been named in honor or the young Ranger. And of course, at the back of the crowd but by no means unimportant, stood Tug, with Ebony curled up on the ground under him. No one would dream of holding a Ranger's funeral without that Ranger's horse and loyal friend present, and indeed, all of those assembled could see quite clearly that, like Shadow, Tug was fully aware of the purpose of this gathering. He knew whose voice he would never again hear, who he would no longer carry proudly on his back, who would no longer be there to lead him into danger and safely back out again. He knew as well as anyone exactly who was now gone forever.

Any conversation was muted and unenthusiastic. Those in the first row remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts.

Will would likely be the first Ranger to be buried with three oakleaves, Halt thought. Most were buried with two, the silver that every Ranger wore and the gold of retirement. But Will would have three: silver, gold… and bronze.

As they prepared Will's body for burial, Halt stood just outside the door, waiting. For what he didn't know. He only knew that he could not leave. Half of his mind screamed at him to walk away, to go home. And yet still the other half held him rooted to the spot. Leaving would mean abandoning Will, somehow, and that was something that Halt had sworn he would never do. Even now, when he was gone. When there was no hope left. When Will Treaty was beyond his help and protection. And so Halt stood there in the corridor, waiting for nothing.

And then the door in front of him cracked open, slowly, hesitantly.

"Sir?"

Jolted suddenly back to awareness, Halt eyed the man who now peered around the doorframe without much interest.

"Yes?"

"We've finished, sir, if you would care to see…?"

Care to see? Halt thought mockingly. No, I wouldn't care to see. Why would I care to see that my apprentice – my son – is dead? But he said nothing, merely followed the man back into the room.

And there was Will, so peaceful now that he might have been asleep. Halt had provided a clean tunic for them to put on him, free of the blood that had stained the old one. And now the same man who had opened the door approached him, again hesitantly. He held out a closed hand.

"We found this, sir, in a pocket sewed into the inside of his tunic. It… it must have meant a lot to him. The pocket was over his heart."

And into Halt's open palm he dropped a bronze oakleaf.

Halt blinked rapidly, trying his hardest to banish the tears that he knew he couldn't hold back forever. Soon they would fall. But not yet. Noticing the motion, Pauline reached over and slipped a slim hand into his. He squeezed it gratefully.

Halt would never forget the pride and awe in fifteen-year-old Will's eyes the day he had presented him with that bronze oakleaf. As an orphan, Will had never had the opportunity to be accepted into anything in his life other than the Ward, had never been able to earn any honor or distinction. He was the unknown, the boy with no last name, too small to be wanted by any of the craftmasters. And now here he was, well and truly accepted as a member of the elite, close-knit Ranger Corps.

But only now, holding the same oakleaf in his hand eight years later, did Halt realize how much it had truly meant. So he stepped forward and carefully wrapped the chain on which the pendant hung around Will's hand, closing his fingers over it to hold it in place. Will would be buried with his favorite symbol of the life he had chosen. The life he had loved, right up until the moment it killed him.

The first few tears finally managed to escape and trickle down Halt's face. But at the same time, he smiled, remembering what had happened next.

"Does everything appear to be in order, sir?" It was that same man again, bringing Halt's mind back to the task at hand. He cast a critical eye over his former apprentice just as he had done countless times in the past.

"One more thing…" He reached out to Will's neatly combed hair, and, much to the undertakers' chagrin, ruffled it until it stood up in all directions, looking rumpled as it always had been by the hood of his cloak. Will had never seen fit to comb his shock of hair in life. There was no reason to start now. Neatly combed didn't suit him much, anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, Halt saw Crowley stand, and turned to watch him as he approached the casket. He paused there, looking down at one of the most remarkable young men he had ever known with a heavy heart. Then, from a small pouch on his belt, he pulled a gold oakleaf. Bending down, he slipped the chain over Will's head, carefully resting the pendant next to the identical silver one. Then he returned slowly to his seat, glancing at Halt as he passed him.

"All Rangers get their gold oakleaf one way or the other," he remarked sadly to Sir Rodney. "I prefer the other way." He shook his head. "I never thought I would still be around when the time came for Will Treaty to get his."

In the row in front of him, Halt silently agreed.

Farther down the row, Horace was staring almost uncomprehendingly at the casket in front of him. It seemed so small. Looking at it now, he found himself momentarily distracted, wondering how his friend could fit inside it. For a brief moment, he was almost certain that it was all a hoax, that his best friend in all the world was once again alive and well. Any minute now, Will would appear suddenly in the clearing, seemingly out of nowhere, as he always had when that cloak had made his approach invisible, laughter sparkling in his eyes and lighting up his face at their expressions of surprise.

But then, as quickly as it had come, the vision passed. Horace had seen those same eyes close for the last time, had seen the familiar face that would never smile again. He had seen Will Treaty, somehow even smaller in death than he had been in life, placed inside that casket. He knew his friend – his brother – was gone.

And then a terrible thought struck him, and he closed his eyes in order to hide the tears that were threatening to spill over as the thought echoed through his mind:

Who's going to be best man at my wedding now?

Pauline sat with her hand clasped in her husband's as they together mourned the loss of the young man who had come to mean as much as a son to both of them. She glanced sideways at Halt, saw his eyes firmly fixed on the casket in front of them, on the empty grave next to it that waited to be filled. She was nearly as heartbroken for him as she was for Will. It had been the reality of Will's impending graduation and assignment to a different fief that had at last motivated Halt to confess his love for her. Will had forever changed his life. What would he do now that he would never see him again?

As the crowd gradually began to settle down, Halt knew it was time for him to stand up and say his piece. It had come as a shocking realization for him, the moment he had suddenly realized that he would be expected to speak at Will's funeral. He had thought about it for days, considering and rejecting so many ideas. And now, when it came down to the crucial moment, he had no idea what to say. Will was as close as he had ever come to having a child of his own. Maybe that was really all there was to say. He closed his eyes briefly, picturing the young face smiling, laughing, asking questions. So many questions.

"Do you ever manage to ask just one question at a time? Or does it always have to be multiple choice with you?"

"Do I do that? Are you sure?"

Halt shook his head slightly, the faintest of smiles crossing his face. Sometimes, Will, I almost think you did that on purpose.

And then he could have sworn that, in his mind, the voice of his student answered him.

Well, of course I did. It was fun.

He smiled again and opened his eyes.

"I've never said this before, but I'm sure most of you knew it anyway: Will Treaty was the closest thing I ever had to a son. I think it was because I saw a lot of myself in him, as well as a lot of the things I wished I could be. But that's not why you're all here." He looked around at them all: Araluens, Skandians, Nihon-Jan, Hibernians. Kings, an Oberjarl, an Emporer.

"There is one thing that should always be remembered about Will Treaty: he was a hero. He was the greatest Ranger who has ever lived… and he didn't even know it. But that didn't come from me. He wasn't really my son, much as I would have liked him to be. I only borrowed him for a while and pointed him in the right direction. He did the rest himself, because all of it, the courage, the heart, the butterfly mind – " He glanced at Shigeru, who smiled sadly. " – all of that was already in him. Will was an incredible person, and I was privileged to have known him… even if it wasn't for as long as I would have liked."

Turning away from the small sea of faces that were still watching him expectantly, he moved to stand with his back to them, facing the casket. For a long moment, he stood there, looking at the face of his adopted son for the last time.

"Goodbye, Will. And thank you."

Then he started as Alyss suddenly appeared next to him; he hadn't heard her approach. Silently, she reached down and carefully unwound the chain of Will's bronze oakleaf, slipping it out of his hand. Then she took Halt's and gently pressed the pendant into his palm.

"He would want you to have it."

"I could have saved him."

Alyss had been standing silently at the stern of the ship next to Halt, and she was startled when he suddenly spoke.

"What?"

He slowly turned to look at her, the pain obvious in his eyes. "If I had told him not to do it, he wouldn't have. He'd still be alive."

"You can't know that," Alyss argued.

"But I do," Halt countered, shaking his head. "He did everything I ever told him to. He trusted me." He stared down at the waves below them, wearily running a hand over his face. "I feel like I failed him."

Alyss also looked away as she answered quietly, "I think we all feel like that." Halt glanced at her curiously, and she shrugged. "I could have tried harder after he didn't listen to me the first time. See?" she asked, her voice breaking. "I can blame myself, too. Just as easily as you can. So who's to say whether it was my fault or yours or anyone else's?"

"I still should have told him not to do it. He never once disobeyed an order from me, and you know it."

She nodded. "I know. But I still blame myself."

"Why?"

Her eyes filled with tears, and he knew what her answer would be before she spoke the words.

"Because I loved him."

Shigeru, who was travelling with them back to Araluen for the funeral, had overheard their conversation, and now he approached them.

"You blame yourselves because you loved him… and yet it's for the same reason that you have to let him go."

Alyss blinked rapidly, staring at the words carved into the stone that marked Will's freshly filled grave.

"I would have married you, Will."

And then she wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but she heard his voice in her head.

I know. I would have asked you… eventually.

She had to smile. "I know."

Sorry I waited so long.

Her eyes watered, and she brushed her fingertips over the letters of his name. "It's okay. I knew you loved me."

I still do.

"I still do, too. I always will."

Remember what Shigeru said.

"He said it's because I love you that I have to move on," she whispered.

Wise words.

"You want me to move on?"

I want you to live your life, Alyss Mainwaring. Because I love you. So yes.

"Okay." She took a deep breath, but, as though he could read her thoughts – which he probably could, she reminded herself – Will's voice stopped her from speaking.

Don't say goodbye, Alyss.

"Why not?"

An image came suddenly into her mind of Will giving her his brightest, warmest smile.

Because there's no such thing.

She found herself nodding slowly, suddenly relieved. "Okay," she said again. She stood up. "Then I won't say it. And I'll move on, Will. I'll try. For you."

There was no reply, but as she spoke the words, a warm breeze suddenly surrounded her, and a wonderful sense of peace filled her heart. So she turned and walked away, softly humming Will's favorite song as she went.

After the funeral, Halt, rather than returning to the chambers he shared with Pauline in the castle, left the grounds and walked through the outskirts of the village until he came to the familiar path that led to the cabin in the woods. He stood there for a long moment at the edge of the clearing, just looking at it. It had been his home for many years. More recently, though, it had belonged to someone else. To Will.

Finally crossing the open space, he climbed the steps onto the porch, listening to the creak of the floorboards and of the door as he opened it and stepped inside. He didn't pause in the front room, but rather headed toward the smaller of the two bedrooms. He opened that door and went in, sitting down on the bed. This room had not been used for a long while, since Will had taken the larger bedroom for himself. But it hadn't always been that way. When Halt had lived there with Will as his student, this had been Will's room. This was where Halt had calmed his apprentice's nightmares after the fight with the Kalkara. This was where he had reassured himself that his apprentice was safe when he had finally gotten him back from Skandia. This was where he had finally come to realize that his apprentice was really his son. And now it was where he knew he would never see his son again.

It was late by the time he finally returned home. Pauline was sitting in an armchair in front of the embers of a dying fire. She had obviously dozed off waiting for him to arrive. He sat heavily in the chair next to her and pulled the bronze oakleaf out of his pocket, letting it dangle from his fingers and catch the faint light of the low flames. Then he slipped it over his head, letting it come to rest over his heart.

Against the wall in one corner of the chamber, there rested a longbow without an owner and a quiver of grey-shafted arrows. In years to come, Halt would carry the arrows with him in a special case, using them only in the most desperate of circumstances, one here, one there, until at last he fired the final arrow to save the life of a friend on the day that he himself would die. But for now, they would remain in the corner, a silent monument in memory of one who was gone.

There isn't much I haven't shared
With you along the road,
And through it all there'd always be
Tomorrow's episode.
Suddenly that isn't true,
There's another avenue
Beckoning the great divide,
Ask no questions, take no side.

What is done has been done for the best,
Though the mist in my eyes might suggest
Just a little confusion about what I'll lose.
But if I started over I know I would choose
The same joy, the same sadness each step of the way
That fought me and taught me that friends never say
Never say goodbye.