Chapter Text
Halt is silent as he cleans the blood from Will’s shoulder. It’s the kind of silence that makes Will hesitant to talk – Halt’s displeasure is rolling off of him in brutal waves, and it’s as if the trees are shrinking back and the shrubbery is shriveling away from the old Ranger. The sun seems unfazed, dappling light through the leaves cheerfully, despite the dark mood between the two Rangers.
“Let me make myself very clear so you never think about doing anything like this ever again,” Halt starts. His voice isn’t quite shaking with anger, but it’s clear that he’s putting conscious effort into talking slowly and calmly. “I am a grown man. I get to make my own Goddamned choices.”
“I’m also a grown man, Halt!” Will doesn’t quite shout, but it’s a near thing. His voice isn’t weak but it is pleading. A squirrel rustles nervously in the distance. “I can make my own choices, too.”
“Foolish ones!” Halt snaps back. “You were too far back to tell if that arrow was going to hit me or not. You should have stayed out of its path. And even if it did hit me, I – “
“You’re getting older, Halt. If it hit me and killed me, we know I’d come back.”
Halt inhales sharply and presses his lips into a thin, frustrated line. “Age has no effect on the magic, Will, you know that – “
“Years ago,” Will says desperately, and Halt draws back slightly to look at the fervency on his former apprentice’s face. “Age had no effect on the magic years ago, before Morgarath, before he did whatever he did with the Wargals, before all of it. That’s the theory, right? That Morgarath’s experiments threw off the balance of magic, including the vein that kept the Rangers from dying?”
“You know that it is,” Halt says, and Will feels a jolt of guilt at the sorrow that creases his mentor’s face. “It’s why we lost Jurgen. Pritchard. The Rangers during Morgarath’s rise that should have gotten more time but didn’t.”
Will chews on his lip. “The magic only just started coming back, Halt. If it’s not back to full strength… it could taper off, couldn’t it? You could live less than a hundred and fifty years, like Rangers used to. Or you could have less chances.”
Halt’s quiet for a moment, before sighing and giving the wound on Will’s shoulder one final swipe with the cloth.
“I could,” he says, and the two words hit Will like a blow to the face. It’s one thing for the idea to live poisonously in the back of his own mind. It’s another thing for Halt to confirm it. “But there are other Rangers older than I am. And the uncertain nature of all this, Will – it’s exactly why we don’t take stupid chances like you did today.”
“I would come back!” Will cries out again. “I would come back, and don’t tell me that I don’t get to make decisions about what’s best for you, because it’s not like there’s anything worse for you than dying –“
“Losing you!” Halt snarls, an instinctive reaction. “Losing you to something so stupid as this would be worse, Will! I – “ Halt stops, takes a breath, looks at Will, who’s gaping, shocked silent by the outburst. When Halt continues, he speaks softer. “I don’t trust it, Will. Every time we come back, it’s a gift, but – I wasn’t brought up or trained knowing that it was an option. We know all too well that certain things can weaken it, or stop it entirely. And I don’t trust it. Not with Gilan. Not with you.”
“I’ve already died once,” Will says, voice pitched just as gently, reassuring. “If I didn’t have it, we would have found out then.”
“It took you nearly five minutes to come back,” Halt bites back, the fear he felt then rushing back and grating his words painfully. “That’s worryingly long, Will, compared to the seconds that it’s supposed to take.”
“That’s just because the magic is recovering,” Will says immediately, but he’s nodding along reluctantly before Halt even raises a challenging eyebrow. “Yes, alright – I see the point. But I’m not trying to be irresponsible, or careless. I just…”
“Regardless of anything,” Halt says, after giving Will a minute to try to continue, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t want you to ever do something like that for me. When the time comes, it comes. I am not supposed to outlive you.”
Will’s eyes fill with tears and Halt strokes his hair back comfortingly.
“Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children.”
Will leans his head into Halt’s hand on his hair. “Can we stop talking about you dying?”
“I don’t think you ever agreed to not try something like this again,” Halt says lightly. Will groans.
“I can’t promise that, Halt, I don’t like lying.”
“Will.”
“No.”
“For God’s sake, Will – “
“No.” Will opens his eyes and looks up at the frustration on Halt’s face. “I – will you just promise to be careful? I’ll promise to be careful if you do.”
“Were you not being careful before?” Halt asks incredulously.
“This is as close to agreement as I’m going to get.”
Halt sighs.
“It’s workable,” he concedes. “Fine.”