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 3

A cough from the doorway caused him to turn his head. He was still plagued by terrible headaches and found it very hard to stay awake for any longer stretch at a time. So he was getting quite used to the confusion of waking up and feeling like he had missed something. Everyone so far, had insisted his name was Gilan, so he supposed he had no choice but to accept this for a fact.

Crowley had been frequent, and was the only one he really felt any genuine trust for.
The surgeon who would never hesitate to wake him, calling the torturous process of changing bandages and examining him, a treatment he had come to truly dislike and even feel apprehension for. It didn't help that when he actually was awake, the man seemed intent on giving him any kind of foul tasting brew to make him sleep.

Crowley had told him they suspected he had fallen prey to horse thieves, as his horse had been nowhere to be found. Most of his possessions had also been missing, though Gilan certainly had no idea if it was true or not since he didn't have a clue what he might have owned, or what kind of horse he might have had. He was in the country of Araluen, and had been told that the castle was the one where the King himself lived. Crowley said he knew him, and that he was a Ranger, and so far, he had not reason to doubt him. The problem was, he didn't know what it meant. They said they thought the head injury was the cause for his amnesia, which he had to admit seemed likely, in addition to it, he had a badly dislocated shoulder, a couple fractured ribs and a leg that rather looked and felt as if someone had been beating it with a mallet.

With no one to really talk to, and no idea whom he might want to talk to, aside from Crowley that was, he was quite content to be left alone.

The man in the doorway had interrupted a half doze, and for a moment he had to struggle to focus. He was tall, much taller than Crowley and the surgeon. He was also muscular, making Gilan think he was a knight and it made him nervous for the man looked almost hesitant even if a neatly trimmed beard hid part of his features. He just couldn't imagine what a knight wanted with him.

He had however developed a habit of being silent until whomever might decide they needed to talk to him spoke first, since he had no idea whom anyone was. Most of them would eventually speak, though one or two had seemed to only stare, then go.

"Gilan?" the man entered, approaching the bed with a strong, marked stride.

He nodded, though he did not like to name himself that as such, since he wasn't actually certain of it.

"Do you know who I am?" the man sat on the chair Crowley always sat in.

"No," it still tended to set his head swimming if he shook it, so he tried a one sided shoulder shrug instead. "I don't really know anyone."

"So I heard," the man sighed.

"Should I know you?" so far, the people who claimed they actually knew him had been very few. The surgeon claimed to know his name, and that he was a Ranger, and some facts about him that Crowley had told him. There had been some infirmary attendants who claimed to know of him from the surgeon, and well, really, Crowley was the only one who actually claimed to know who he really was. The prospect of someone else who might have some knowledge of him was actually equal parts exciting and frightening.

"I am David," the man started slowly. "You do know me."

"Oh," he bit his lip, not sure what to say. "Sorry."

"Hardly your fault," David gave him a kind, but very sad smile. "I was hoping a familiar face might help. But I guess it didn't."

"Guess not," he fidgeted, Crowley was a little more easy to talk to. For some reason, he felt like this man actually wanted something from him. "I don't, I don't really know anything, or anyone."

"You were injured, quite severely I hear," David reached a hand towards the bandage around his head, and Gilan flinched back. A groan escaping him as it seemed to cause the ever-present headache to flare up.

"Sorry," David hastily apologized. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's really sore," he bit his lip, it hadn't seemed like a cruel gesture. The way someone would do when they wanted to hurt someone, but the thought of someone he did not know being so familiar with him, and so hesitant at the same time was really uncomfortable.

"I imagine it is," David nodded slowly. "Do you want me to let the surgeon know? Do you need anything for it?"

"No," he chewed his lip, uncomfortable and feeling ill at ease. The way David looked at him certainly made him think he knew him, but also that he expected him to know why. "If, if I know you, then, then why?"

"It's not really important right now Gilan, what's important is that you're here and are safe, and we can figure out the rest," David stated. "I'm sure your memory will come back."

"Yeah," he ducked his head, looking away. "I, sorry, but I, I'm really tiered…"

"I understand, you'd better get some rest," David reached out a hand, to pat his shoulder and once more Gilan couldn't help but flinch. David looked almost hurt at it, but he couldn't help it, and he quickly squeezed his eyes shut. As he did, he heard the scrape of the chair legs as David stood, and the light rasp of his boots on the floor.

His next visitor was very different, but just as strange. A young girl, pretty, in a way though her features weren't the most feminine. She was rather small, but she had a warm open smile as she entered the room. It was large enough for several patients, and clearly was meant for it though it had taken him some time to notice that there were several cots in it. A dozen, though he was the only one there. The space between them weren't much more than was needed for the chair, and there was a window on one wall, the door to a corridor on another. By each bed, was a small, but steady table where the surgeon could put his tools, jars and concoctions.

"Hi," she greeted him cheerfully. "Is it alright if I sit a bit?"

"Yes," it was a girl, very clearly a girl, so he tried to cover himself a bit better with the blanket. It was hot to keep it on all the time, but he hadn't really had the strength to feel like trying to get up, so he had settled for pushing it off at times.

"I'm Cassandra," she smiled brightly. "The princess…"

His mouth fell open, and he gave a start at that, she didn't have a crown or anything, but she certainly had something of an air of confidence about her as she said it. He believed it, but he could not understand why a princess, an actual royal princess would want to see him.

"My Lady…" he swallowed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know… I, I didn't know who you were…"

"Father told me," she still smiled, but he could see that it faltered. "And it's alright Gilan. We're friends, even if we don't know each other that well. We've met, and I count you as a friend. I was hoping a familiar face might help."

"No My Lady, I'm sorry…" he couldn't imagine that he'd know a princess. He couldn't believe she would lie, but he felt perhaps she was speaking out of kindness. "I'm terribly sorry…"

"Don't be," leaning forward, she put her small hand over his calloused one. "I'm sorry you're unwell, and I do wish you get better. I thought at the very least I could offer some company. It must be horribly boring alone in here."

"No, My Lady, it's fine," he bit his lip, fidgeting nervously with the blanket. "It's alright, you shouldn't trouble yourself."

"It's hardly trouble to want to be there for a friend," she smiled, but it seemed more troubled now. "It must be horribly boring for you here all alone. Is there anything I can bring you? We do have some books. I could easily get you one."

"Thank you, My Lady, but please don't go to any trouble for me," he pleaded. "I," he hesitated, dropping his eyes, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat. It struck him suddenly, that he did not even know if he could read or not. She was looking at him though, expecting him to finish, and he tried to focus his errant thoughts. "I don't know if I could read, my head does hurt, and it's hard to focus." It was true, even if it wasn't the full truth.

The princess nodded slowly. "I didn't think about that," she admitted. "Well, if there is anything I can get for you, if you'd like something more palatable to eat, please will you let me know?"

"Yes My Lady," he agreed, thought it was only to satisfy her. "But you really shouldn't trouble over me."

"I'll come visit you again," she smiled, giving his hand a light squeeze.

"It was most kind of you," he breathed. She seemed sad, and troubled, and he supposed it was because he had not known her. She was kind, very kind, but there seemed no reason a princess should trouble about him. After all, how could he have been of any importance?

The surgeon gave him another one of the strange brews, but he still found it hard to sleep. He was dozing, when he heard voices outside the room that caught his attention. He recognized one of them, David, he had said his name was, but not the other one. He was big, just as tall as David and more heavily set, more muscular. They must have thought he was asleep, as they spoke so freely, but hearing them Gilan wished he could have shut his ears completely. They seemed to find it so easily to decide on his fate.

He could just barely see them outside the room, frowning inwards as he heard David refer to the other one as Duncan, he did not know who that was. It was not a name he recognized. Through half lidded eyes he saw David cast furtive glances at him, but even when they were done talking, neither one entered.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not, he certainly had no desire to talk to David, about anything. He wasn't sure what he thought of the man, but he couldn't say he was very fond of him at the moment.

Sighing, he turned over on his side, wrapping his arms around himself.

When Crowley came to talk to him the next day, he was resigned, and somewhat lethargic. He found it very hard to care, he certainly couldn't find it within himself to be optimistic about any of it. At the moment, Crowley was probably the only one he even remotely felt he could trust, so whatever he said, he was willing to go along with.

Given how hopeless his situation was, he really didn't see how it could get any worse.

TBC
The caffeine addicted Cricket wants to thank you all for reading...