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 31

As slowly as they were going, it took them some time to get back to Castle Araluen, the trip in spite of not being too arduous leaving them all exhausted. Though the young Ranger had been able to eat a little more, and was more alert, the nightmares seemed to have increased. Crowley and Halt had been debating if they should stop for another night, or push on though it would be dark when they arrived.

The last option had won, in part because both felt it would be easier for Gilan if there was less attention on him when he was taken in. He would hate being carried in on a litter, and the less around to see it the better.

With this in mind, they had allowed a longer stop during the afternoon, letting Gilan sleep after the meal. Suddenly his screams echoed through the small clearing, causing Halt to jump and drop his mug of coffee.

Crowley who had been tending to a damaged arrow shot to his feet beside the fire.

Gilan's screams were the raw screams of terror and panic as he thrashed on the ground, eyes wide open he struggled to free himself from the blanket.

"Gilan, easy, easy!" Halt was beside him in an instant, trying to calm him and hold him down. Afraid he would hurt himself the way he struggled.

"No! No!" Gilan struggled against him, his breath ragged, his free hand clawing at the blanket and his shirt. "It's gone, they took it! It's gone!"

"What's gone?" Halt knelt beside him. "You need to calm down Gilan, I got you, you're okay."

"No! They took it! They took m' arm!" he pushed against Halt, his hand clawing at the shirt and Crowley frowned. His bad arm was still strapped to his chest, and Gilan couldn't move it or really see it. The shirt was pulled over the mass of bandage, and whatever the dream had been, Gilan was now unable to see that the arm was still there.

Striding forward he hefted the knife he had been using working on his arrow, grabbing the shirt collar, and with one swift cut he had slit the front open.

Gilan, first startled by the action and the knife had frozen, trembling as he stared at the Ranger commandant.

"Look Gilan," tossing the knife aside Crowley knelt before him. "Look, your arm is here. The surgeon will have to see to it, the wrist is broken. We need to let the surgeon have a good look at it to fix it, but it's here. Okay?"

Slowly, almost dumbfounded Gilan reached up his other hand to touch the linen swatches securing his arm to his chest. He touched the cool skin where the limb was exposed, and his own fingertips as if he needed to reassure himself he could feel them. Slowly, he nodded, swallowing, and turning large eyes up at Crowley. "Not gone…?"

"No Gil, not gone," Crowley nodded. "We're just trying to make sure the damage won't get worse. I think the surgeon at Castle Araluen can fix it, but it won't be easy. The more you move it, the harder it'll be."

"That's why you need to keep still, let us help," Halt cut in. "You okay now?"

"No," Gilan squeezed his eyes closed and pressed against his mentor.

"It's alright Gil, I got you, you don't need to be okay yet," Halt breathed softly, cradling the thin, trembling frame against himself. He felt rage well up inside him over the way his apprentice had been treated. Rage that caused him to tighten his grip, and Gilan whimpered quietly as his ribs flared.

"I'm sorry," realizing what he had done, Halt loosened his grip. "I'm sorry Gil," keeping his arm around him he struggled to control the rage. Holding his head against his shoulder so that he would help support him as much as possible. Tremors were still running through his lanky frame, and he tried to cover him with his own cloak. Carding his hand through his hair he noted that he slowly seemed to relax, the trembling eased, and his breathing seemed to slow.

"Come," he shifted a little. "We might as well get back into the carriage, you good with that?" Though Gilan was tall enough to make it very difficult for Halt to carry him, he had lost so much weight it was not as hard as it should be. Together with Crowley they could easily get him in, but it was easier if he was at least awake. He couldn't walk, but supported on them he could help a little.

The young Ranger offered a weak protest, but he allowed himself to be raised and taken back to the pallet in the carriage, unsettled, until Halt got in and sat next to him. Pulling him against him as he had before. The ruined shirt hung open, and worried he would catch a chill Crowley reached forward to tuck a blanket around him. "Sleep some," he urged. "We won't have to stop again before we get there. Soon enough you'll find yourself in a nice soft bed, and Pauline will be there to fuss over you."

"Miss her," Gilan mumbled, rubbing awkwardly at his chin and the beard growth there that was growing longer and seeming more unkempt for each day.

"She's missed you to," Halt declared. Pauline did not even know they had found him alive. They had opted against sending a messenger. It would have got there faster, but Gilan was in a bad way and they did not want anyone to think he was better than he was. It would only hurt them when they found out the truth. Better they got to see for themselves just how it was when they saw him.

He hadn't mentioned David to Gilan, as he did not know if he would be back yet when they got there or not. The man hadn't handled the loss of his son very well, and demanding to be kept busy he had been sent on a short mission to Norgate. He shouldn't be away long, and Duncan would no doubt send for him, requesting his immediate return if he was still there.

He knew how much it would mean to the lad to see his father, and wanted nothing more than to be able to promise him that. As he wasn't certain though, it was better not to say anything. If David was already back, it would be great. If not, a soon as they spoke to King Duncan they would be able to tell him when he would return.

Gilan had turned large eyes to him, worry on his face, as if he could sense Halt's musings. He probably could, he decided. Gilan had always been very perceptive and picked up on a lot more than Halt had thought he would be able to.

"You really should try to get some sleep," he urged. "It won't be long now, a couple of hours."

"I know," Gilan curled his good arm around himself, biting his lip as he turned towards the window. Dusk was settling, before long, he wouldn't be able to see much Crowley mused.

"Gil?" Halt's eyes narrowed as he studied his former apprentice. He knew the lad more than well enough to tell he was suddenly on edge. Gilan however shook his head, he did not want to talk about it. He didn't know how he could talk about it, though the turmoil of emotions spinning around inside him made it difficult to be silent.

"Gilan, if something is wrong, you need to tell me," Halt told him, firmly, his tone broking no argument. It was a tone of voice that Gilan instantly reacted to, and he snapped his head around, mouth open as if to speak though he said nothing.

"I, don't…" he finally managed. "Back is… I want it, but, I don't…."

"You're worried what will happen?" Crowley might not know him as well as Halt did, but now and again he liked to prove that he to was pretty perceptive.

Surprised, Gilan stared at him, then he nodded.

"What will happen is that you'll be taken care of, we'll get that arm and leg fixed up," Crowley told him. "That will hurt, and not be any fun, but it has to be done. Then you will be given the time you need to recover. No pressure, what you have just been through is a little worse than we could normally expect in the line of duty."

"Not compared to Will," Gilan choked up, his hand clenching into a fist as he squeezed his eyes shut, pulling away from Halt as much as he was able.

"Gilan, you know better than that," Halt shook his head. "You can't think like that."

"It's true," Gilan hunched down. "I know it's true, I'm sorry, I was never that good…"

"Gilan!" Halt didn't raise his voice, but his tone was sharp, and the boy pressed against him was trembling violently again… "Gilan, you can't think that way," he softened his tone. "You don't know what was worse, you don't know what he would have done in your place. No more than you know what you would have done in his. But you can't let yourself think like that. You know better than that."

"No," desperately Gilan shook his head, keeping turned away from them as much as he was able. "'s true."

"What Halt says is true," Crowley cut in. "We saw what they had done to you, we know what it means, and it does not mean you're weak, or should compare you to anyone else. That is something that can really get out of hand. You have been starved and tortured, no one can just shrug that off."

"I don't wan' talk about it," Gilan buried his face into the blanket.

"You don't have to, but will you listen to us?" Crowley dropped a hand on his ankle, a gentle but firm grip to remind him that they were there. The young Ranger was silent, and Crowley studied him intently. Halt knew the boy better, but Crowley was pretty good at reading him. Gilan had never compared himself to Will before, it wasn't in his nature. His training had only strengthened that trait. He knew better than to expect himself to perform to someone else's standard. Oh, there had been small slipups, a bit of despair here and there when he struggled with a particularly hard part of his training.

Unseen movements, remaining unseen, archery and the knife training had come so easily to Gilan that Crowley had sometimes pondered if they could push him ahead. In some areas, he might not have even needed a full year, but every now and then he hit a snag where he was out of his depth. Cooking had been one, tracking had taken time, much more than Crowley had expected. Once the lad got it though, he was soon an expert tracker. He was determined and dedicated with an abundance of energy.

He was not perfect though, and he knew it. He did not try to pretend he was, he had always been quick to admit his mistakes. Even if he thought it would get him laughed at, he still told them he had messed up. Openly and honestly, and while he sometimes seemed to perform at less than his full skill, as if he did not want to show-up the other apprentices, he never compared himself to them.

Truly, Gilan knew better than that, so the fact that he was doing so now, and so insistently, meant there had been something else going on. Something they were as of yet unaware of.

One thing Crowley knew well, but that some did not think about was that abuse and torture need not only be physical. It could be mental as well, he had seen it, how a woman would bully her man, without ever laying a hand on him. Yet she had tortured the poor soul for years, while most of the village had pitied her, thinking her the victim. He had seen fathers do the same to their sons, and he had seen village bullies harass those under them with both hands and words.

If asked, he would have said Gilan would be one to hold up remarkably well to physical torture, he was strong, and rational. He knew what it was and why it was done, and he could handle it quite well.

The mental kind though, that was different, and it wasn't something they trained their Rangers in. It wasn't something he thought they could train them in. It was always so different, so changing and so unpredictable there was no real way to prepare the Rangers for it.

Gilan was one of the strongest men he knew, and one of the best, but he had been left behind because he was told he was worth less than Will….

His eyes narrowed as he wondered if he was not on to something. Harcourt had told them that he choose Will, because he knew it was what Halt would have wanted. Gilan had heard this, had the gang played on this? Telling him that Halt didn't care for him at all as they beat him? He would not put it past them.

Sick from starvation, constantly suffering such abuse, yes, under those circumstances he could see Gilan falling into that trap. It would probably have been the only thing that seemed to make the whole thing make sense at that time.

Which meant that now they had quite a problem on their hands.

"Gilan?" Halt was still trying to get his attention, but the young man wasn't acknowledging it. Lending weight to Crowley's theory. Catching Halt's eye he shook his head. He would tell him what he thought later, but it was no good to do so in front of Gilan. The best thing would be to talk it through with Pauline.

When it came to Gilan he knew one thing, what he and Halt couldn't figure out, Pauline already was on top of…..

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…