Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, made possible by the Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. I have only borrowed his creation and I make no money. For this story I have used several other Rangers from the books, though I've also added my own. I do this only in the hope to entertain…

Author's Note: No harm shall come to the characters that can't be fixed with enough coffee…

Chapter 36

Sir David was a little surprised when he arrived back at the castle and was told by one of his men that the King expected him in his study directly.

"I'll be up as soon as I've seen to everything," he decided. He needed to make sure the men he had had with him were seen to. That they took care of their horses and their gear, and was given a hot meal and a chance to refresh themselves.

"King Duncan has ordered me to see to your men," his man at arms insisted. "And take care of your horse, you are to go right up, King's order."

"Is something the matter?" David frowned. It was highly unusual to receive such a request, and he wondered if his King doubted his ability to perform his duties. Then he shook his head, no, Duncan was a very straightforward King. If he had had any doubts about David's capability, he would not have sent him on the mission to Norgate. If something had come up, it was unrelated to the loss of his son. Unless Duncan had simply wanted to spare him the effort of keeping up appearances in front of the men. This too however was unlike Duncan who understood the duty of a commander just as well as David.

"I can not say," the man shrugged. "It's the King's orders, that's all I know," he held out his hand for the reins, and David gave them to him.

"I'd better go on up then, thank you," he nodded to the man as he started inside the castle. It was unusual for the King to send for him so urgently, but not so that he felt any greater concern. When he arrived at Duncan's study, Gerard, Duncan's Chamberlain greeted him.

"You're to go right on in," he motioned to the door. David was well known by him, and there were few men in the kingdom that Duncan trusted more, there were no need to make the man jump through hoops, and he would be half likely to throw him out of the window if he tried it he mused. After all, Sir David was also good friends with Halt, and the sometimes cantankerous Ranger had been known to throw an overly pompous Baron or two out of windows into moots.

David nodded, looking mildly concerned as he strode to the door, his long legs making the trek seem effortless where Gerard himself thought he would have looked as if he was running for his life.

"My Lord," entering the study and closing the door behind him David nodded to his King. There was no need for too much ceremony between them, they were well past that by now. Yet having been summoned as he had, he felt some degree of decorum was in order.

"David, it's good to see you again," Duncan gestured to a chair. Reaching for a decanter and a goblet. "I take it all went well?"

"Yes, certainly," he nodded, accepting a goblet of wine gratefully. Taking a sip to wash the dust out of his throat as Duncan poured himself some wine. "You want the full report right away?"

"No, no," Duncan shook his head. "The report can wait, it's not important."

"Is something wrong then?" David put his goblet down on the desk. "What has happened?"

He was at once attentive, ready to meet any trouble head on Duncan mused. Even though still grieving the son he thought he had lost, and looking weary and worn, his first thought was of duty.

"I need you to listen to me, and not rush ahead," he started softly. "Because when you hear what I have to say, you'll want to run out of here, and that won't do any good. I need you to curb that instinct and bear with me, I'm talking to you as a friend now, and a father who once believed his daughter lost…"

"This is about Gilan then?" David's voice was grim. "Some believe I am uncapable of performing my duty?"

"No, Gilan is alive," Duncan put a hand on his shoulder as all colour drained from his face and he leapt to his feet. "David, sit down."

The man had been half turned towards the door, having shaken off Duncan's hand, but at his words, firm but gentle he turned around. "Gilan is alive?"

"Sit down, drink this, I wager you need it," Duncan handed him the goblet again, pressing his shoulder so he sank down on the chair. "Neither Halt nor Crowley were willing to accept matters as they stood it seems, they found what they felt was a discrepancy in Ranger Harcourt's report, and you know how those two are when they're not satisfied," he added with a bemused smile. "They took off to find out what it was, what was left of that gang needed to be dealt with anyway. When they questioned Harcourt, they found out he had never actually seen Gilan die, he had assumed, as they said they were going to do it that they did. But he never saw it."

"And he left Gilan there?" David gulped down half the wine, trying to regain his composure. "He just left my son there?"

"He did, and he will answer for it," Duncan told him bluntly. "Halt and Crowley did not know if he was alive or not at this point, but they got on their tracks as quick as they could. When they caught up with them, they found Gilan, alive, but it's not good. He's been hurt bad. Physically, my surgeon is certain he'll recover, but it's going to be hard for him." Refilling David's goblet, knowing he needed something to strengthen him against the shock he told him all he knew.

"Last time I went up to look in on him, he was waking from a nightmare," he shook his head. "Woke screaming until he was sick, couldn't be calmed. Barely eating and not talking much more. The boy's in a bad way for sure, and you need to be aware of that before you see him."

"My God, my son…." David shook his head, his eyes damp. "Thank you for telling me."

"I thought I had lost my daughter, I know a bit about it," Duncan told him sadly. "More than I wish either of us did, but at least I can help you through it. Go on up to him now, he needs you, that's for certain. But be prepared he's in a bad way and don't push him. The way they treated him was worse than inhuman. Halt's confident he'll recover from it, and he knows him as well as anyone does, but it'll take time. That's for sure. Go on up, and when you're through, come back here, I'll wager you could use a friend and a goblet of wine then. It'll be hard, don't expect anything else."

"Thank you," David told him, heartfelt, as he started for the door, shaken, and not really paying any heed to whom or what he passed as he made his way through the stone corridors and stairs.

He knew Halt and Lady Pauline had been given a suit of rooms for their use, and now he was ushered inside by Pauline who placed a hand on his arm. "Did Duncan tell you?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice, feeling more awkward than he could recall ever having done since he tried to court Gilan's mother.

"He's awake," she smiled softly. "He'll be glad to see you, but he probably won't say much."

Nodding again David looked to where she indicated, walking to the door. The window was open, a screen of oilskin letting the light in though stopping the cool breeze. The room was on the cool side, but not so cold as to be uncomfortable.

Halt sat on a chair he noted, with a few arrows on the side table. David did not pay him any heed. On the bed, reclining against several pillows was his son, the son he had thought dead. Pale and gaunt, looking like a mere shell of himself with the ragged beard a testimony of just how poorly he was doing. Unlike so many men, Gilan had never wanted to grow a beard. He had started shaving once his beard growth started coming in, and though David wore a beard, his son had not wanted to.

The lad took a moment to shift his head on the pillow, during which time David did nothing but stare at him. He was covered by a blanket, so he could not see the leg he knew from Duncan was splinted. It was however folded back from his chest, and he could see the heavy bandages securing his ribs and arm.

It seemed to take the young Ranger a second to acknowledge who had entered, then his eyes widened slightly.

David could hold back no longer, rushing forward he fell to his knees beside the bed, letting his head fall on his son's shoulder he put his arms around him as tears streamed from his eyes.

"Father," Gilan's voice was somewhat shaky, with his father's arm around him he could not even move.

"I thought I had lost you…." unashamed of the tears, David pulled back only so much he could put his hands on his son's face. Needing to feel him to know it was real. He put a hand over his hair, smoothing it down before leaning forward and holding his boy to his chest. "My God, I thought I had lost you…"

"I'm okay," Gilan mumbled, not pulling back though the movement had set his ribs flaring.

"No, no you're not," David shook his head. "But you're here and I got you back. We'll take care of you. I got you back."

"I'm okay," Gilan mumbled again. His dad was holding him tight, and as much as he had wanted it, and relished it, it wasn't just his ribs that had started burning with pain. The pull on his shoulder, the pressure on his arm and the awkward way it pulled on his leg was all becoming too much and he tried to pull back. "Father, it hurts…"

"God, I'm sorry," David instantly released him, then because he could not bear to lose the contact he gripped his hand. "Gilan, my God Gilan, how much I missed you."

"I'm sorry," Gilan ducked his head.

"It's not your fault, you got nothing to be sorry for," David ran his hand over his hair again. "I thought I had lost you Gilan, and I could not think. I should have questioned it, I should have demanded facts, but I, I just shut down. My God, Gilan, can you ever forgive me?" he would never forgive himself he knew. Not after having seen his boy like this.

"S' okay," Gilan shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters," David insisted. "Of course it matters.

"He's right though, it wasn't your fault," turning his head at the gruff voice was the first David became really aware of Halt, and he turned tear filled eyes towards his friend.

"Thank you for finding him, for bringing my son back." They had been friends for many years now, and usually there was no need for such words between them. Yet this time David's voice was thick and choked. This was more than the usual, this was about the life of his son, his very heart and soul.

"I can't seem to get rid of him since I made the mistake of taking him as my apprentice," Halt shrugged, his voice a little gruff, but he was smiling. "And he's made me regret it ever since."

"Said I was sorry about that bit with the wall," Gilan mumbled. Halt could have jumped for joy though, as it was the most they had got out of him voluntarily. Though he had a feeling the boy was just trying to muster up a good show in front of David. "Wasn't my fault anyway."

"If it was or wasn't, isn't important now, since I happen to be thinking about the poor donkey," Halt stated. To that Gilan remained silent though. David didn't quite seem to realize, he was holding his son as if he meant to never let go. At least he had shifted to sit on the edge of the bed and was content holding his hand.

Halt took the opportunity to leave the room, in the main room of the small apartment they had a small pot of stew keeping warm by the fire. Getting the lad to eat anything was suddenly a chore, and having it easy at hand at least meant he didn't have to go down all the five hundred stairs or so to the kitchen. To be fair, he would have had a page boy come, and run for the food, but that tended to give the young Ranger advance warning and he seemed more inclined to fall asleep.

There was also a teapot standing over the hot coals. The tea was a mix of herbs that while not very effective would at least take the edge of the pain. Pouring a half mug full, Halt mixed in a little brandy and honey. He took mug and bowl into the room, putting them down on the small table beside the bed.

"Get that into him if you can," he told David.

"Smells good," David mused, swallowing down a thick lump as he turned his eyes back to his son. It had been many years since he saw his son like this, ill, despondent and wane. The boy had always been so full of life, so bursting with energy that it seemed a whole Battleschool could not keep up with him.

"I'm not really hungry," Gilan eyed the bowl dubiously. "Father…"

"That's what he says every time, except he don't call me Father," Halt snorted, wanting to caution David not to fall for it. "He needs to eat, and he doesn't seem to be of a mind to."

"Gilan?" David frowned as his son turned his eyes away from them, tugging weakly at his hand to free it from his father's. "I thought you were gone for all this time, it broke my heart, you can't think I'll risk losing you again," David pleaded with him. "Heaven's sake Gilan, what's the matter?"

"Nothing, jus' not hungry. Not doing anything but lying here anyway," Gilan was starting to get agitated again Halt noted, as he tended to do when he was pressured. "It's nothing, not really, jus' that, not hungry…"

"Well, try some, it smells really good, I'll help you," David tried to help him sit up, biting his lip as his son groaned.

"It hurts," Gilan half pleaded. "Can't move, my ribs hurt too much."

"I'll help you, let me," David stood and slipped his arm around his shoulders, easing him up and slipping the pillows in behind his back to support him. "Let me do the work son, as soon as you're sitting, you won't feel it as much."

"Feel it plenty, let go," Gilan groaned out, eyes squeezed shut. Finally he was more upright, face even paler David noted, reaching out his hand to brush it over his cheek.

"Seems a lot like when you fell out of that tree when you were eight," he mused. "Think I told you that was too high to climb."

"Wasn't climbing that was the problem, was falling down," Gilan groaned out. "Father, I'm tiered…"

"Of course you are if you don't eat," taking the mug David tested the temperature, giving Halt a questioning look as he smelled it.

"Herbs for the pain, and a bit of brandy to help it along," Halt told him.

"I think we'd better start with this then, it's cool enough to drink," David mused. Turning to Gilan he held it to his mouth. Gilan tried to raise his hand, but it shook and he dropped it again. Taking a few small sips before he turned his head away. A little trickled from the corner of his mouth and David found a cloth on the table that he used to wipe it away with. "A little more, son," he urged. He managed to coax half the liquid into him, putting the mug down and picking up the bowl of stew instead when he noted the boy had started listing to one side. It would seem he didn't have quite the strength to sit up fully, even supported by the pillows.

"A few bites, then I suppose you can sleep if you need it," he decided.

"Not moving again," Gilan's voice was firm as he bit his lip.

"I think we can make you comfortable as you are, come now," not wanting the stew to run down his chin into his beard, knowing Gilan would really hate that, David only took a small measure of the stew into the spoon, and met a very reluctant young Ranger who did not seem eager to open his mouth. "I'd let you do it, but I don't think you have the strength," he decided. "I know how you feel son, but right now, you need a hand with this, and there's no shame in it."

"Father…" Gilan hesitated.

"I'm sorry my boy," he felt his voice getting thick again. "Gil, what is the matter?" suddenly he felt extremely grateful that Duncan had warned him, for if he had not been forewarned about his son's state of mind he did not know if he could have handled it. Just a short time ago, when Duncan urged him to listen when all he wanted to do was to run to his son's side, he had chafed at it. Appreciated what his friend tried to do, and knowing that Duncan unfortunately had the experience to back his words. His daughter had been lost, thought dead, and taken to Skandia with Will. Gilan had been there, and he remembered well how devastated his son had been from knowing he left them in Celtica. It had been hard on him, though Gilan had been stoic, not showing how much he hurt inside. Just as he had always been.

Now he watched his son, but the boy said nothing. Instead he took a few spoons of the food before he turned away, eyes falling closed and this time David felt it was weariness that had him falling asleep. Sighing he put the bowl down, pulling up the blanket to settle around him better. "You sleep Gil, I'll be here when you wake up," he told him.

He watched as his breathing evened out and the young man drifted off, his brow furrowed even in sleep. A look of tension on his face. Though it was hard to tear himself away, he needed facts and so he stood, following Halt into the other room, leaving the door partially open so that he would be able to hear if he woke.

"It's about the same as he's been since we found him," Halt didn't need his friend to ask the question to answer it. "It could be it's nothing more than that he needs a little time. No one deals easily with being tortured."

"No, they don't," David agreed. "I've never seen him like that."

"It was because of a grudge to me they did that to him," Halt stated grimly. "I'm sorry David," he met his friend's eye, the guilt heavy in his own. "It was my fault," in as much as it had been done because of him.

"So that's where Gilan gets that from," David snorted. "I don't blame you, and no matter what's going on with that boy, I doubt he does. Good people don't hold grudges because you go after the scum of the earth, it's the ones that needs be stopped does it. Gilan knows that, and I know that. It's just part of being a Ranger, or a knight," he added. "I've made plenty of enemies of my own, none of which would hesitate to hurt him to get to me." The only difference was that not all of them would realize that Gilan was his son. They would not think that the King's supreme commander had a Ranger for a son. Halt though, was well known, he was a name most bandits knew about, and if they knew him, there was a fair chance they knew he had had apprentices.

"Even so, I'm sorry," Halt told him now.

"You found him, you got him back for me," David shook his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for," he sank down in a chair. "I read that same report, I never saw anything wrong with it. I only saw that I had lost my son. I left him there Halt, I did not realize what was wrong in that damned report and I left him there. It's no wonder he's in such a bad state now. I left my own son to be tortured because I did not see what was wrong!"

"It helps when you've read his reports before," Halt shook his head. "You don't read our reports unless there is a specific need."

"Maybe so, but I'm his father, how could I just give up and accept that he was gone without knowing, how is he ever going to forgive me for leaving him there?"

"If there is one thing I'm sure of, it's that that boy doesn't blame you," Halt shrugged. "He's too quick to forgive, quicker than I'd want sometimes, but he's a good boy."

"The best son a father could ask for, better than I deserve," David nodded. He ran a hand over his beard, weary. "Not that I was ever much of a father. I did what I could, but I had no idea what to do with him."

"Given the man he is, I'd say you did a fine job," Halt smiled faintly.

"He needed a mother, and I put him in Battleschool," David shook his head. "I always put duty first, and he knew it."

"He understood it," Halt shrugged. "Boy's clever, he knew what was going on. He knew why and he understood it. He's never thought you were a bad father."

"No, he's too good for that," David stood, pacing, for once reminding Halt of all the restless energy of his son. "But that's just it, I'm his father, it's what he calls me, Duncan's girl calls him dad. So does Robbins boy call him, but Gilan, it was always father…" He sighed softy. "My own fault, I was always more of a father than a dad."

Halt opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted before he could, a weak, muffled cry from the other room that was by now far too familiar to him. "He usually manages at least an hour or two before the nightmares starts," he mused.

David was already turned towards the door, "when they sound like that, they've already been going on for a while." Not waiting for Halt he strolled into the other room, his long legs making the distance in only a few strides.

Crying out weakly, Gilan was writhing on the bed, his free hand coming to claw at his ribs which David knew would be aggravated from the way he was squirming.

"Easy, easy Gil," he knelt beside the bed to brush his hair back from his face. "Easy, I'm here, it's alright. You're safe…" His voice, firm and soft at least seemed to be getting through to the lad and Halt found himself smiling softly. David might berate himself for not being closer to his son, and due to circumstances he wasn't. What he had said was the truth, there was a difference between father and dad, Gilan never expected David to be a dad. He had great respect and love for his father, but he always expected his father to put his duty first. Yet now, at his father's voice, the boy quieted. His thrashing stopped and he calmed somewhat even if he still moaned in the grip of the dream.

"I wish I knew if that was because he trusts me, or because he thinks I'll berate him," David sighed.

"Self pity?" Halt raised an eyebrow. "Or do you think so little of Gilan?"

"No, I suppose I'm just blaming myself, and wishing someone else would to," he sighed, offering a wry smile. "He's my son Halt, and seeing him like this is tearing me apart. I just don't know what to do…"

"I've been wishing that boy came with a set of instructions for years," Halt snorted. "So don't expect me to have any answers for you. He's not too bad though," he added fondly.

"He's not," David managed to offer a genuine smile. For all he felt out of his depth, and had felt that way since he found himself a widower with an infant son, he loved the boy with all his heart. "He rather is worth it…"

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…