Chapter Text
The nightmares had him in its throes. Hurling him this way and that, heaving his body out of itself and replacing it with the raw black terror he had known. Will was awake within his nightmare, trying to claw his way out of it, somehow subconsciously feeling the panic taking over his body as he slept.
The whip came again, flicking drops of blood on its descending ark towards his bare torso. It hit, and the agony numbed him. He fell onto his side and the whip came again, searing his ribs across to his belly. There was no strength to cry out anymore. He managed to open his eyes, to see who was whipping him. It was Halt.
"No, no no no! NO!" Will awoke with a shriek. He sat straight up in bed, shaking, tension gripping his thin shoulders. He began to rock back and forth moaning to himself. "He would never do that. He would never do that. It wasn't Halt. It was Slagor. It wasn't Halt. Not my Halt." His door opened and Halt's silhouette framed the light from the dying fire.
"Will?" He said, his voice husky with sleep.
"Oh, Halt, I'm sorry," Will said, his mentor's voice snapping him back to reality like a bowstring let loose. "I woke you?"
"Nightmares?" Halt asked gently. He could feel Will's nod through the darkness. His voice came thin and tired.
"I'm sorry, Halt. I can go sleep in the stable with Tug." Halt felt a cold pain in his chest. That he would offer to sleep in the stable. After a nightmare. So I can sleep. He didn't know what to say. It just hurt him; he loved the boy so much.
Halt crossed the small room to sit on the end of Will's bed. He sensed Will's shaking relax some as his familiar presence drew closer. The firelight came like a flood light through the doorway, a path of warm yellow light falling over the bed.
"You wouldn't want to—stay—here tonight... would you? Halt?" Will said, jerkily, testing the waters. Halt found Will's leg though the sheets and rested a hand on it.
"That's what I'm here for," he said. He paused, gathering his thoughts in the unfamiliar waters of fatherhood. "Will, I have tried to do many things—alone, in my life. Don't do that to yourself. You don't need to go through this alone."
Will felt a warm rush of tears. He hastily wiped them away before they could spill over.
"I know," he said. "I just—" he paused, "I don't know how." He couldn't help the tears now. They clung to his cheeks. Small drops of melted ice.
"Come here," Halt said, putting an arm around Will's shoulders and pulling him into his chest. Will leaned into him, his small body cold against Halt's warm one. "When you are ready, Will, I will be here for you to tell me everything. But take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
"Thanks Halt," Will mumbled through the blanket he had stuffed in his mouth to keep himself from the deep shuddering sobs he longed to let out. He wasn't used to this Halt. The Halt who sat in a chair by his bed at night, who brought him coffee in bed when he was too fragile to rise, who had even been caught humming a few lines of Graybeard Halt while trying to calm Will back into sleep. He didn't know what to expect from this side of Halt. But he loved it. And knew he needed it.
"Take your time, son. Take your time," Halt said quietly. He pressed his nose into Will's rumpled mess of dark curls and hugged him tighter. What am I turning into, he thought. Who would want to stick their nose into a teenager's sweaty bedhead? But then he smiled. A father would. And He was as much a father to Will as he was a King's Ranger. He sensed the boy relaxing and sinking lower, falling asleep. He tightened his arms around his shoulders and realized how thin Will was getting. He wasn't eating much. And sometimes, Halt would come across him at the edge of the woods, throwing up what little he had eaten.
"I'm—sorry, Halt," Will had gasped during one episode. "I really do—like your cooking. I—just can't keep it—down." Halt had smiled a little and kept a hand on his back telling him to breathe and wishing he could help him stop.
Halt gave himself a mental note to try to find something Will could keep down. He could see his ribs though the thin sweaty nightshirt plastered to his body. He looked fragile. Like a wilted flower. Will had only told him of his forced addiction to the warmweed as a slave in the Yard. He knew of the cruelty of certain Skandian masters, but to what extend he didn't know. He only knew it had reduced Will to this sad little wilted flower. He had lost his fight, his strength to reach to the sun. Even so, Will was still the strongest person he knew. He was still able to give Halt that smile of his. The one that could turn on the lights and blow away all the dust in a heartbeat. The achingly handsome, genuinely delighted to see you, childlike grin that was so famously Will. Underneath it, though, Halt could see the hurt deep in his eyes. He couldn't make the boy tell him everything that had happened. Not yet. In his own time, it would come out, and it would straighten him, fill him up, and release the turmoil he held inside.
Will was sleeping peacefully now and Halt slid him into his pillows and pulled his sheet up to his chin. He left his fingertips resting on Will's chest for a moment, feeling the boy's slow soft heartbeat. Then he turned, pulled Will's chair closer to the bed, grabbed a blanket, and watched his son sleep.
Halt knocked on Will's door. "Breakfast is ready, boy," he called opening his door a crack and peeking through. Will was sitting on the end of his bed slowly pulling a shirt over his head. Halt winced at the atrophy that showed on the boy's body. His skin was pale and thin, and his ribs poked through. The muscles from months of hard training were taught and ready under his skin, but still looked like they could snap at a touch. He felt hot rush of anger towards those who could hurt someone so young set his chest to roiling. But he pushed it down and opened the door.
Will saw him and looked away, hurriedly pulling his shirt down.
"Uh—thanks, Halt," Will said. "I'm hungry!"
That's a good sign, Halt thought.
Will came to the table, a rumpled mess. "Good morning, sunshine," Halt said, an eyebrow raised. Will's hair was a shock of brown curliness floating every which way, plastered to his sweaty forehead. His eyes were bright and feverish looking and the dark circles under them showed that it had been a rough night after all.
Halt set a plate of warm bread with honey in front of Will.
"Try this on for size," he said. He sat down across from Will and poured him a cup of coffee. Will watched for a moment as the smoky tendrils curled up from the mug, white wisps in the cool winter sun. He spooned in a significant amount of honey and took a long sip.
"Thanks, Halt," he said. A little bit of his own bright light coming to his face.
"Eat, Will," Halt said. Will picked up his coffee cup and started to take a sip.
"Food, Will. Not coffee. "I mean actually take a bite." He mimed stuffing food into his mouth. "I warmed up the bread for you." Will rolled his eyes and fingered the bread, before taking a hesitant bite. He smiled. It was pretty good. Halt watched him chew for a moment more making sure he swallowed, then turned to his own food.
"So, I was thinking, Will..." Will couldn't help it. He raised an eyebrow. Halt noticed and dropped his fork onto his plate sitting back with a sigh.
"Fine. Go ahead and say it. I can see it would make you so very happy." Will just laughed with a shake of his head and took another bite.
"I was thinking," Halt said testily, "I have a few reports to get to Lady Pauline." Will looked up, interest in his eyes. "She is going to look over them for me before getting them to Crowley."
"I can take them for you, Halt," he said.
"That's what I was going to ask."
"When is she expecting them?"
"Oh, anytime. But, the earlier the better. How about you head out when you finish breakfast? I think—" He didn't finish his sentence. Will was staring straight ahead, lips pressed tightly together, unmoving. He had turned pale and slightly green.
"Will," Halt said, stiffening, "Are you—" He was cut off again as Will quickly turned away and started to heave. "Not on the rug, Will," Halt cried, and grabbed his arm, helping him to the door. He flung it open and gave Will a gentle shove in the direction of the porch. He then watched as Will doubled over and lost his honey toast. And his coffee. He winced as Will gasped for breath, a one hand wrapped around his middle, the other steadying himself on the porch railing.
Halt came up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders, give them a massaging squeeze. He kept this up as Will finish emptying his stomach.
"Easy now," Halt said. "Keep it coming." He caught Will's grateful look.
"Honey toast was our last option," Halt muttered. "I'm no Chubb, can't think of anything else."
"Sorry," Will said with a sheepish grin. He stood up and wiped his mouth. His face was flushed and sweaty.
Halt helped him inside. The biting fall wind shut the door.
"What am I going to do with you," Halt said, rubbing a hand through his peppered hair and down the back of his neck.
"I'm fine now, Halt," Will said. "I just drunk my coffee too fast."
"I see that," Halt said, rolling his eyes. "Clearly that's all that was," He leaned over to look at Will's half empty coffee cup. When a Ranger didn't finish their coffee, you always knew something was not right.
"I'll be on my way now, I guess," Will said. "Don't want to keep Pauline waiting."
"Pauline?" Halt said, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't she Lady Pauline to you?" Will blushed and looked away.
"Oh, uh, you're right... sorry, Halt."
"I think you should stay here today. You don't look so good. Why don't we just train here for the day."
"No, I can do it," Will said. "Really, Halt. I'm fine. I think getting out would do me good. If you don't mind?" Halt humphed and looked at Will, his eyes narrowed.
"Alright," he said slowly. "But hurry back. Don't dawdle. Don't die, that sort of thing."
"Thanks Halt." Will flashed him that smile and hurried to the door.
"Uh, Will," Halt said. Will stopped and turned around. "You might want to, uh, change clothes." Halt motioned to his own shirt. "You missed."
Will looked down at his shirt and blushed. He turned without a word and slipped into his room. A moment later his filthy shirt was thrown out his bedroom door. Halt sighed. Teenagers, he thought.
"Uh, Halt?" Will called.
"Yes?"
"Can I borrow a shirt? All mine are—uh, dirty." Halt sighed again. Teenagers, he thought. But he got up, rummaged in his room for a moment, and returned to Will's door, carrying the smallest shirt he could find.
"Try this one," Halt said, pushing the door open. It hit something hard like a foot was stuck out to block it.
"Wait! Stop!" Will said. The cold tension in his voice carried even to where Halt was standing. He stopped.
"What is it?" He asked. His heart quickened.
"J—just throw it in, I'll get it. Thanks Halt." Halt paused confused. He had never known Will to be sensitive about that sort of thing. He remembered one of the many mornings he had come across Will stumbling through the cabin shirtless, hair in shocking disarray looking blearily for coffee and clean clothes. Halt had handed him a coffee cup and a clean shirt grumbling something about savages and the decency of the civilized. But of course it never bothered him, and Will never seemed to notice or care.
Huh, Halt thought. He tossed the shirt in through the cracked door. Strange. Then he smiled. Teenagers.
Lady Pauline was drinking tea. She was curled up on her favorite sofa under a fur blanket, wrapped in a shawl. It was cold. Her rooms were spacious, and she made sure they were decorated with a good supply of blankets in the colder months. She looked out at the pale sun. It was nearing midday. I would expect those reports from Halt soon, she thought. She sighed and pulled her gaze away from the window. She missed Halt. He had been so busy trying to get Will back into the swing of life. The boy was not the same she knew. She missed him too. Missed the bright spot he brought to her heart whenever he was around. He was good for Halt, she knew. But she also knew that she needed someone else to love.
As if her thoughts of the boy had summoned him, a gentle knock sounded on the door.
"Come in!" she called softly.
Will came in shyly. He took in his surroundings with a glance. It was a furtive movement of his eyes, one Pauline knew had been trained into him by Halt. He smiled when he saw her. She noted how tired the smile was. How thin and worn it seemed.
"Welcome, Will," Pauline said warmly.
"Thank you Lady Pauline," Will said with a grin. Pauline pursed her lips, drawing them into a mock frown.
"Now Will," Pauline said, "how many times have I told you. It's just Pauline to you. No title necessary."
Will grinned. "Thank you, Pauline," he said. Then he handed the reports over. "These are from Halt," he said. "He said you would know what they are."
"Ah, yes, the reports," she turned to set them on a small side table "thank you—" she broke off as she looked back Will's face pale and his hand go to his stomach.
"Will? Are you alright?" Will snapped himself out of his nausea.
"Sorry," he said. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I just—haven't been feeling well... since..." He blushed and looked away. He scratched his neck. "Anyway, sorry to bother you, Pauline. Halt sends his best and said to tell you he'll stop by soon. He said he misses you."
"He actually said that?" Pauline asked, two perfect eyebrows raised in unison. Will grinned again
"Well, I elaborated," he said, mischief in his voice. "I should be getting back. Halt'll be waiting for me."
"Will, wait," Pauline said. "I was actually just calling for more tea. And I was feeling a bit lonesome. Would you want to keep me company for a while?" Pauline watched Will think.
"Well, Halt said to hurry back. But I don't think he would mind, since you asked me. If it was anyone else he would skin me alive. But he loves you too much." Will blushed again. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking away and running a hand through his hair. Pauline laughed.
"It is no surprise Halt O'Carrick loves me," she said. "I've just been waiting for him to tell me himself someday. But that's not his way. He shows it in the many things he does." Will smiled softly.
"Yes, he does," he said.
Pauline looked at Will. She winced inside as she saw how thin he was getting. His dark hair framed his pale face and his body seemed to have a slight tremor to it, like a leaf in the wind. She knew of his nightmares, Halt had told her. She knew of the warmweed and the enslavement. But Halt had also told her how much he was worried about Will. He knew there were still things he hadn't told him. And he knew there were things he would never know. But he wanted Will to know that he could tell him anything and it would be ok.
"Get that cloak off, Will," Pauline said, moving the blankets on he sofa with a graceful swish. "Get comfortable. Tea will be here soon." She patted the sofa beside her. Will smiled and swung his cloak off his shoulder draping it neatly over a chair. He removed his knives and carefully leaned his bow in a corner. Then he sat down next to her.
"How have you been, Will?" Pauline asked. The question caught him off guard, and he didn't answer for a moment.
"Well—uh... ok, I guess," he stammered.
"Will," Pauline frowned, looking at him reproachfully. He grinned sheepishly.
"It's been rough," he said quietly. "I'm sure Halt has told you." Pauline nodded
"Some," she said. "But I would hear the rest from you. If you want." Will looked up into her soft face, tracing the delicate lines in his mind. Her eyes were so warm, and inviting. He realized with a little jolt, that he missed his mother. Or rather the idea of one. He missed the presence of a mother in his life. And he needed one so badly. He looked away quickly before Pauline could see the tears misting his eyes.
"It was so lonely," he said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands fidgeting. Pauline put her hand on his arm.
So warm, Will thought.
So cold, Pauline thought. She watched as Will struggled with the load of hurt in his heart. It was weighing him down. It hurt him physically she could tell.
"They wouldn't feed us," Will said. "They would starve us. And it was so cold. I can't—" He shivered, and felt tears pressing in his eyes. Pauline squeezed his arm.
"I'm so sorry," she said. She looked him over. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"
Will gave her a wry smile. "I haven't kept anything in for a few days," he said. "It's driving Halt crazy. He keeps trying to find things for me to eat, but I can't keep anything down. I nearly threw up on the poor man this morning. He just managed to throw me onto the porch."
Pauline smiled. "That would have been a sight." Will laughed softly. But a laugh with no smile in it. She slid her hand onto his back to rest it there. He flinched away.
"Sorry, sorry," she said soothingly, holding her hands up.
"No! Please—I'm sorry, Pauline," he choked, and he looked at her, tears on his cheeks now. She saw him lean slightly closer to her, with a nod. She put her hand back. He leaned closer. She could feel ridges under his shirt, and she frowned.
"Will, you know that you can tell me anything right?" She said. "You don't have to do this alone. Sometimes it helps if you get it out of your heart." She shook him gently. "And there is nothing you could tell me that would surprise me, or hurt me, or make me love you any less. The same goes for Halt. He loves you, Will. If you haven't noticed."
Will smiled through his tears. "I've noticed," he whispered. "I... really need him." More tears. He couldn't stop them. "And I think—I think I need you too, Pauline. I need—I miss my mother. I never had one, and I don't know what it feels like, but I—I'm missing—I need something."
Pauline's heart nearly broke. She reached for the boy and pulled him into her. He didn't resist. He tears came harder.
"It's alright," she whispered. "I have you. It will be ok." She had never been a mother. But seeing a young one in pain... her heart reached for him, and it knew what to do. She rubbed his back softly and kissed his head.
"We love you, Will," she said. "Both Halt... and me."
"It hurts," Will choked, "I can't get it out of my head."
"What hurts, Will," she said, pulling him away to look down at his face. She saw it contract with the grief. And then he took in a great shuddering breath and stopped his tears.
"They would—beat us. And whip us," he whispered. "The things I saw... no one should have to go through that. I—I took Evanlyn's share. Because I couldn't watch them do that to her. But I watched—people—get ripped to shreds. Over nothing. I can't get it out of my head. I dream it, and I can still feel that whip. It hurt so bad."
"Oh, darling," Pauline said, pulling him closer and holding him tighter. She could feel her own tears on her cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that was like." She remembered the ridges under his shirt.
"It left scars," she said. "Didn't it?" Will swallowed and nodded. Pauline looked at the small boy next to her. And then slid her hand under his shirt and lifted it to see his back. Will didn't resist, Just closed his eyes.
His back was completely crisscrossed with raised white and red scars. They were welts, really. Deep rivulets of pain. For a moment, she saw a writhing, bleeding boy in her arms, his back raw and bloody, tears in those perfect eyes, crying out for the pain to stop. She lifted his shirt higher and saw some stripes went over his shoulders and around his sides. They reached like clawing fingers. She put a hand out and touched them softly, her hand warm on his cold skin. She didn't know that even though they still caused the boy pain, the damage was so great, he could barely feel her touch.
"Does Halt know?" She said. Will shook his head.
"I can't tell him," Will choked, "I—I don't know how." He looked up suddenly. "Could you help me?" Her heart almost broke again at the sight of those earnest pained eyes, so hopeful, so trusting and... warm. She saw warmth creep back into his eyes. Slowly, he was softening, and straightening and turning towards the warmth.
"Of course," she whispered. She pulled him into her again. Her hand was still under his shirt, rubbing his back. Her soft touch letting him know that to her there were no scars, just Will. She pulled a blanket up over his legs. They stayed like that for a while. Will slowly trading his crying breaths for deep comforted ones. He could hear Pauline's steady heart beat in his ear from where his head rested on her chest.
"When was the last time you slept, Will," Pauline asked.
"Not much," he mumbled.
"I'll be here," Pauline said with a small smile. "Close your eyes."
And Will did. And there were no nightmares only warm quiet visions of Pauline, and Halt, and Abelard and Tug and Gilan and Horace and Evanlyn and... and..."
Halt knocked softly on the door to Pauline's apartments. He didn't wait for an answer but pushed open the door.
"Pauline?" He said. "I think someone may have kidnapped my apprentice." Then he saw them. Pauline sitting on the sofa, legs curled underneath her. A stack of reports was on the armrest, a steaming cup of tea in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. And next to her, a boy was laying on his side, his head in her lap, sleeping.
"I think I found your apprentice," Pauline said, smiling.
"What happened?" Halt whispered. He came over, his booted feet making no noise on the soft rug.
"He fell asleep," Pauline said.
"Yes I can see that," Halt said, a bit testily.
"Halt, dear, sit down," Pauline said. She set down the papers and cradled her tea in both hands. Halt sat down gingerly next to Will, not wanting to disturb the sleeping boy. Pauline could see Halt's concern. It was written on his face, whether he liked it or not. And though others might pass it over, she could see it, plain as day.
"Halt," she began.
"What is it?" He said, his voice rising.
"Shh," she said, reaching to touch his arm. She set her tea down and Halt turned toward. He draped his arm over the back of the couch, a hand behind her, so he could be near that long fine silver hair.
"He's hurting," Pauline said. Halt sighed and rubbed his beard.
"I know," he said. They were quiet for a moment.
"Lift his shirt, Halt," Pauline said. Halt blinked.
"What? Now?" He looked down at Will, then back up to Pauline.
Pauline nodded. He could feel the urgency and expectancy behind Pauline's words. He hesitated a second, then turned to the boy sleeping next to him. He was laying on his side, his head still in Pauline's lap. Gently, Halt tugged Will's shirt free and pulled it up. His eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. There were scars on Will's ribs. Long and white like growing roots. Reaching and squeezing and biting. Halt touched them gently, following them to Will's stomach.
"His back," Pauline said. Halt followed the scars and slowly rolled Will over to his stomach, careful not to wake him. His face reddened, then whitened, then reddened again.
"What did—" his voice broke.
"They beat him, Halt. They whipped him." Halt too had the sudden flash of Will crouched on the ground, back being torn by a whip, face brave, but eyes with tears begging for them to stop. Halt turned his face away.
"His nightmares then? Are about..." Pauline nodded.
They whipped him, the thought bitter and stabbing in Halt's mind. His heart seized. "I had no idea," Halt said. He looked up at Pauline with misted eyes. It all made sense now. The screams in the night, the shirt episode of that morning. "I had no idea. I was watching him go through that and... he never told me."
"He couldn't, Halt," Pauline said, touching his hand. "Think how you would feel. He asked me to help tell you." She looked at Halt with sympathy. Halt sighed and ran a hand through his rumpled hair.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Pauline," he said, desperation creeping in his voice. "I don't know how to help him. I don't know what to say or what to—what to be anymore." His voice cracked. Pauline smiled sadly and leaned over Will to put a finger on Halt's face.
"Be a father, Halt," she said. Halt could feel warm tears behind his eyes and struggled mightily not to let them fall. "That's what he needs." Halt rested his hand on Will's side, on the scars he had been so afraid would show.
"I was right there, Pauline. Right there for him, all the time, waiting," Halt whispered. "I told him he could tell me anything and it wouldn't change how I feel about him." Pauline smiled again and combed her fingers through Will's hair.
"I know, Halt. You did your best. Some things," she paused. "Some things take a mother's touch."
"Sometimes the weight of decisions
Will try to bury you
Don't let the shame tell you something
That you know ain't true
Just cuz you feel like a stranger
That don't mean you are
God, I could use a reminder
Of what forgiveness is for
Someday soon these worries roll on
Someday soon enough"
Someday Soon—Wilder Woods