Companion piece to chapter fifteen of my story "The Little Things in Between".

Halt frowned as he scooped up the large pile of old reports and notes. He really needed to discard papers more often, the Ranger thought as he carried them over to the fireplace. As Halt tossed the armful of scraps into the fireplace, Gilan entered the front door, scuffing his boots on the entryway rug.

"Abelard pooped in his bucket again," the sixteen year old complained. "I swear he's doing it just to have a laugh at me."

"Probably," Halt answered with a totally straight face.

Gilan shook his head with exasperation and was about to reply when his eyes landed on the pile of paper scraps, blackened and curdling as the fire eagerly devoured them. A flash of panic crossed his face as his head whipped around to Halt's now almost empty desk, then back to the fire. "Wait!" He cried out as he lunged forward. His hands reached for the burning papers, then stopped as an instinct of self preservation kicked in. He stared, a horror stricken expression frozen on his face as he watched the papers turn to ash.

Halt had jumped at Gilan's sudden shout. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"My book," Gilan answered, his tone dull with disbelief. "You burned my book."

Halt's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'I burned your book'? I just burned scraps." Please, please let him have not just burned Gilan's notebook...

"I put it on your desk before I did chores," Gilan answered miserably, lifting his head to look at his mentor. To Halt's horror, his student's blue eyes were shiny with tears. Even as he watched, Gilan's eyes welled over, wetness spilling onto his cheeks.

Oh, dear. "Gilan, I'm sorry. I was just clearing my desk and I didn't know it was there."

"It was on the corner!" Gilan yelled, surging to his feet. "I didn't put it in the scrap pile!"

"How was I to know?!" Halt snapped back, immediately regretting his harsh tone when he saw his apprentice flinch.

Gilan's voice cracked. "Because it was my notebook," as if that explained everything. In a way, it did.

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so stupid, stupid, stupid... "I'm sorry."

Gilan met Halt's eyes for a moment, anger visible beneath the dejection. Without another word, Gilan spun on his heel and strode out, slamming the front door behind him with a loud BANG. For his easy going, mild mannered apprentice, it was the equivalent of him screaming in Halt's face.

The older Ranger kicked the wall and swore. "Well done, Halt," he said savagely to himself.

It was funny how people could change. Three years ago, if someone had told Halt that having a sixteen year old boy angry at him would make him unhappy, he might've laughed out loud. As it was, the fact that it was now approaching dinner and Gilan still hadn't talked to him was enough to make him bothered.

Go figure.

"Gilan? Time to eat." Halt called towards Gilan's bedroom. His student had taken Blaze for a gallop, practicing his weapon work when he was out. When he got back home, he grabbed his charting tools without so much as a glance at his teacher before locking himself in his room.

Three hours ago.

Not hearing an answer from his apprentice, Halt sighed. "Gilan. Answer me."

"Not hungry."

Ah, there it was. Short and dripping with sulkiness, but an answer nonetheless. Gilan might be furious, but he was too trained and too polite to ardently ignore a direct request. Still, Halt wasn't much fond of sulky responses. "Want to try that again?"

"I'm not hungry, sir."

"Fine," Halt answered, his own temper growing short. "I'm going to the village; lock the door behind me, and I want you to eat something." Halt paused as he got to the door. "And Gilan?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry."

Gilan didn't answer, but Halt heard a sniff. Moving up the trail towards Monica's inn, the Ranger gave another heavy sigh. "You've done it again," he sarcastically congratulated himself.

Monica, the young, pretty brunette owner of the Blue Bird inn, frowned as she sipped her coffee. "Gilan's not one to hold grudges," she said carefully.

Halt, sitting at the other side of the table nursing his own mug, replied, "Well, he's holding one about this."

Pursing her lips, Monica thought for a moment. "I imagine this notebook was important?"

"He was always writing and drawing in it," Halt answered, guilt flooding his being as he recalled just how much Gilan used that book. How on earth had he not recognized it?

"You could get him a new one," Monica said with a shrug as she added another spoonful of sugar into her drink. It could be said that Monica had a bit of a sweet tooth. "It won't replace everything that was lost in the old one, but I think the fact that you took the time to replace it would show Gil that you are truly sorry about it."

"You think so?" Halt replied, eagerly grasping at any ideas that would make his apprentice forgive him. Monica took another sip of coffee, frowned, and reached for the sugar again before answering. Halt moved it out of her reach. "And that's enough sugar."

The girl glared. "I really do. And you're the man who puts in more honey than coffee."

"Honey is natural," Halt replied knowingly. Nevertheless, he slid the sugar back over. "Thank you." With that, the Ranger stood and walked out into the night.

Stirring the newest spoonful of sugar in, Monica fondly rolled her eyes. Men, she thought, so often struggled with the most obvious solutions.

An hour later, Halt knocked on the door of the cabin. Underneath his cloak he held a beautiful, smooth new notebook. Several seconds passed before the lock clicked and the door opened. Gilan's eyes met Halt's face for a second before he turned and slowly started walking back to his room.

"Wait! I have something for you," Halt said hurriedly, pulling the book out. Gilan's eyes widened.

"For me?" He said breathlessly, looking very much like he wanted to snatch the book right out of Halt's hands.

For a second, Halt's sardonic side was tempted to say, No, for the Baron, I just wanted to show you first, but sensing that it would not be well received at this moment, instead pushed the book into his apprentice's hands, replying, "For you."

Gilan's face broke into a grin, his entire demeanor brightening. "Oh, Halt, thank you! It's fantastic!" Running his hand over the smooth leather cover, Gilan paused for a moment before continuing in a rather ashamed tone, "I'm sorry I was so awful today. I was angry, but my behavior was out of line."

Instead of reprimanding or scolding him, Halt simply said, "I'm sorry I burned your notebook."

Gilan relaxed and gave a sheepish smile. "So... we're good?"

Halt nodded, inwardly filled with relief. "We're good."

*Notes: Monica is an OC I introduce in chapter ten of I'm NOT Overreacting. Her relationship with Halt and Gilan is better explained in that story, so I would recommend reading it if you wish to understand her character more. Basically, Halt chased some unsavory characters out of her inn at some point in time, and since then has been friends with her.

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-TrustTheCloak