GENERAL: This is dedicated to my baby Halt and baby Will. Noone is writing fics online for me to read about them so I thought I'd go ahead. I was shocked and appalled to discover that only 5 fics for this existed on . This is also a little b-day present to myself and to any other Halt adorers. If the relationship between Will and Halt isn't adorable and father/son totally, then it will be romantic. Whichever one I don't write in this, I can write another fic for. Also, I don't know if I can update regularly. This is my 1st posted fic. Yea. And in case you have seen me anywhere else, I was ShadowFoxTrulsRohk for a long time. Yea. I'll stop rambling now.

DISCLAIMER: If Ranger's Apprentice was mine, everyone would know it. As far as I'm concerned, John Flannagan is a god and my father in law. Halt is my future husband. That is all that I can claim.

WARNING: This fic gives spoilers for books 1 and 2. Now 3, as I'm about to finish it. This fic is m rated to be safe. This fic will probably contain, but not necessarily, yaoi (male/male relationships), sexual encounters, rape, torture, language, violence, character death, m-preg (male impregnation) abuse and I will warn you if anything else shows up. My apologizies, but they will bea little ooc. I'm sorry. I can't help it too much. I will try to avoid it.

Please don't read if you don't like any of that. Halt and Will will probably be the main pairing if they become romantic in this. I haven't decided yet. I will write 2 fics, 1 with them together and 1 with them not.

Also! I have only read the 1st 3 books. Almost 3. Please no spoilers. I implore you.

Yea. Enjoy. If it isn't terrible. Please no flaming if you review. Constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome. Thank you and enjoy.

Ch 1:

Will's mouth had opened instinctively as he thrashed and clawed at the muscular arms that held him forcibly just beneath the waters surface. The chilled liquid rushed in the instant he did so, intent upon consuming him both inside and out.

The wild pangs of panic seared through his midriff at first, then rapidly spread to his brain. From there, like an infectious poison robbing Will of his ability to reason and think, the fear exploded into him, filling up every inch of his being. The painful iciness of Will's liquid shackles dimmed with the new agony that was fear and the need to breathe.

He was just beginning to feel queasy and light headed from lack of oxygen, an unnatural fog sweeping through his mind, when a new, more welcome pain seared through his chest as he gulped the precious air into himself. Will dimly became aware of laughter, oddly distant yet loud. Large hands manacled his wrists to the point of bruising. The panic receded with these simple observations and the presence of oxygen.

Then he was entombed in the icy cage: just beneath the surface so that he could see the one goal his mind shrieked at him, but not quite reach it, despite his desperate attempts.

And again, the panic had only just seemed to take a firm grip around his mind, his body just barely aware of the chill and the drugged state he was slowly entering, when Will felt himself gasp. He was only permitted two huge gulps of air before he was forced back into the dank tank. As always, just beneath the waters surface.

The process repeated two or three more times. Will wasn't entirely sure. With each completed round, his body weakened. His mind began to succumb to the terror more easily. After the last hellish dunking, Will did not even begin to think of anything other than how sweet the damp air was to him. He was terrified that it would repeat. He was not prepared for the harsh encounter with the ground as he was flung to the floor, blessedly, away from the tank. Too heavy and sickly to move, Will curled in on himself and inhaled as much air as he could.

"Sneaker is shivering and choking on his own breath like some pathetic animal."

"Disgraceful," another of Will's tormentors put in.

"You know what they do with wild animals, don't you fellows?"

The chill of the waters seemed to writhe within his middle, as though it had steeled itself into his body to haunt him forever. He could not take much more. Shame and despair settled in as he recalled that he'd only been enduring these horrifying procedures for about one month. What kind of ranger was he? Halt would surely be ashamed.

No!

That was part of the terrible things these bastards had taunted him with. They wanted him to think that way. He would be easier prey. But it wasn't as though there words didn't make sense. Rangers were regarded as strange, distasteful. Ward children were few and barely heard of. They were often considered inconsiderable brats who'd taken the lord's kindness for granted. Wait! That wasn't true. All of his wardmates had become skilled in their field and were securing a spot in society for themselves quite well.

He, however, was kidnaped and tortured for a little while and he was breaking down! That was surely not what Halt would do. He wondered where Halt was. What he was doing. Was he even looking for him? Was Will expected to manage this alone?

Even if these were simply the taunting jibes of his captors, they did make sense. Besides, there was one factor above all that shamed Will more than anything. The entire reason behind the awkwardness and tension consuming Will's last days with his teacher.

The fact that he was in love with Halt.

Will was pulled to his feet by the scruff of his neck. Bone weary from his now daily ordeal with the tank, he permitted his body to remain limp and did not struggle. Finally, his breath had steadied to an even pace. He knew that it would not be long before he was struggling for air again, though for reasons other than the horrors of the murky tank.

Will chided himself for not having noticed when one of his tormentors had vanished. He had only just realized as the burly man reappeared. The customary insane grin donned his features and a long red tipped poker was clutched in his hand.

Will instinctively tried to dislodge his captor's hand to flee as his mind processed what was to happen next.

"Look at that!" the lanky blood-red haired man yelled.

The man restraining him punched his face, then delivered a mighty blow to his unprotected gut. Tears of mixed emotions sprang to Will's eyes. He did not give up the struggle.

"Surprised you have so much fight in you, kid," his captor remarked dryly. "That was a good idea, Derek."

"Yeah! Look at him," the red head taunted. "Is the wannabee ranger ward brat scared?"

Will was determined to escape. He could do this. He was a ranger. He would not be hurt for the amusement of others any longer.

"Cut it out!"

The man's arm encircled Will's neck, bruised purple from similar situations. Will screamed as a knife was plunged hilt deep into his abdomen. It was swiftly pulled out and slammed in again, right next to the first wound. The pain and fear broke Will's carefully controlled demeanor. Warm tears slid down his dirty face, burning the cuts and bruises as they passed.

"He's crying!" one of them shrieked in triumph.

"Hold him steady. I think we may be about to break him."

Blinded and helpless to defend himself, Will stiffened with every step the burly blonde took. When Will sensed that he was close enough, he desperately threw his arms up to ward him off. The attempt was futile and only served to cause him further pain as the blade was shifted and jostled inside of him.

They cackled at his pathetic display of helplessness. Tears of pain, shame, despair, and fear would not stop flowing down his cheeks. They only increased as the heated tip of the poker was scraped tantalizingly slow down his half bared legs. Will could not stop the instinctive jerking and struggling from the source of his agony.

"If you hold still, brat, this wouldn't be so bad."

"Aren't you supposed to be a ranger? Your master must be ashamed. You can't even control yourself."

Will cried out as the poker was raked across his now blade free stomach. His hands scrabbled wildly at the weapon to keep it away.

"Hey," the man bearing the poker remarked.

"Gerald. Pull his head back. And keep him steady. We don't want to damage him too quickly too fast."

Will felt hands seize his jaw and hair roughly, forcing his head back to expose his throat. Another set of hands gripped his shoulders firmly. He could feel the other's nails digging unmercifully into his starvation shrunken shoulders.

"No!" he cried feebly, hands clawing blindly, body twisting madly. The two men held him fast. Will could not move his head an inch.

The hot tip made contact with the sensitive flesh of Will's throat. Will shrieked, seizing the weapon with his bare hands. He screamed in unconstrained anguish as he fought to keep the painful tip at bay. Will could feel skin of his hands numbing and blistering. He knew instinctively that he would be dead if he relinquished his grip. Fresh tears exploded from his puffy, irritated eyes. His vision darkened threateningly and the wicked cackling of Will's captors drowned out his ability to hear anything else.

Heat seemed to build within his head. Will could feel his brain pounding maddeningly against his skull. His breath was coming in short ragged gasps. The sounds of his tormentors amusement seemed to grow distant. The pain in his hands exploded. Will feared that they were ignited. His mind was too overcome with a mighty miasma to care. He was going to be sick. The overwhelming darkness that pressed upon him was greatly welcomed.