Rangers Apprentice AU-Police Force

EPISODE 7 PART 1: Dark Tidings

He came out of the mists that twisted around the damp, narrow alley. His face was a white blur under the fedora that he wore pulled low; as he advanced, Will felt a  deep fear knife through him.

 He had nowhere to run. 

He was trapped, his back against the cold stone, his pistol empty. 

Still the figure advanced steadily and Will heard a thin laugh. "So you're Will Treaty....Will Treaty...."

 "Will Treaty!"

Snapping awake Will stared at the cracked ceiling above his head, dragging air into his lungs as though he had just completed a race. Slowly, recognition of his surroundings flooded over him in a relieved wave.

The room was part of the boarding house; he recognized the faded pictures of Presidents Washington and Lincoln hanging on the wall, and glimpsed the small shelf of his books just underneath. Presently, he became aware that someone was pounding on his door, and his landlady's brusque voice was shouting his name again.

"Will Treaty, it's high time you came out-you don't want to be late, do you?"

 Late? Sitting upright, he searched feverishly for his alarm clock. It no longer occupied the bedside table, but was on the floor-broken. He must have swept it off by flailing out in his sleep. The bent hour hand rested on the nine, and he hoped it had been pushed there-if that was the real hour, he was in trouble bigger than haunting nightmare shadows.

"thank you, Mrs O'Malley!" he shouted, and heard her heavy tread fade back downstairs as she grumbled to herself.

 Springing up from the bed, it took Will a few moments to dress, fingers fumbling at the buttons and struggling with the sleeves that seemed to have turned themselves the wrong way out sometime in the night. At last it was completed; yanking the comb over his hair briefly, to take out the worst of the cowlicks, he slapped the comb back down and left his room, taking the stairs two at a time. 

Mrs. O'Malley had returned to her kitchen, and the dim hallway was empty as Will raced through, snatching his jacket from the hall post. 

He didn't take time to look about him but raced straight for the station, his arms moving rhythmically, his legs pounding the pavement as he ate up the stretch that lay between him and his job. If he was late...if he was late...

Dodging people and cars, skirting past newsies and jumping a hedge for a shortcut brought him to the steps of the station breathless, and red faced, but barely on time. 

The clock hands had been wrong, he realized thankfully. With knees that seemed more of rubber than of bone, he wobbled his way into the building. He was attracting strange looks but kept his eyes ahead. All that mattered was he had made it on time.

 in the locker room, Will yanked open his door and pulled out the crisply ironed uniform waiting inside. He had just done so when Gilan's face popped around the other side of the door.

"Hey! Ran into a little trouble, did you?" His eyes twinkled as he looked Will up and down. Following his gaze, Will flushed when he saw that the shirt he had grabbed was buttoned incorrectly all the way down.

"A little," he admitted sheepishly. Yanking it off he pulled on the uniform, ensuring that he began on the correct button this time. Finished with his own, Gilan leaned on the door of Will's locker and gazed about him. His usually cheerful face had become oddly thoughtful and serious, but Will gave it little thought. He snatched up his cap, and Gilan moved back, letting him close up.

"I had the weirdest dreams," Will was saying as they started out, when he realized Halt was standing outside with Mack. Breaking off, Will looked from one officer to the other, feeling the atmosphere in the room shifting suddenly. 

Mack acknowledged their arrival with a nod, before turning back to Halt. "I can't understand it either, Halt but these things do happen sometimes."

 Halt grunted, unconvinced. "To anyone else maybe, but not him. He was a top notch boater; practically grew up with webbed feet instead. I just don't buy it."

"Oh, Halt..." Rubbing a hand tiredly over his face, Mack sighed. "This isn't about Morgarath."

 A chill passed over Will's heart at the name of the city's notorious gangster. Morgarath; was he really out there still, as Halt believed? Waiting to strike when the enforcement was weak, and take control of the streets as he had once before? Will had always heard of him spoken of as a scary bedtime story. Something that the children had been told to keep them close, away from the dangerous streets. But since coming here, he had come to realize this man was more than a myth-and worse than a nightmare.

 "We could investigate, couldn't we chief?" Gilan's concerned voice broke over Will's musings, and he realized that whomever everyone was speaking about must account for the way Gilan had been acting in the locker room. He wished he hadn't been so concerned with getting ready, and had asked the cheerful officer what was wrong. Who was it that they were talking about?

 Mack shook his head. "Look, Davidson; I know how you feel, honest."

He does, too, Will thought, noting the look of sorrow that flickered in the Police Chief's eyes. 

Mack rumbled on . "But there isn't anything to investigate. It has been ruled an accident."

 Overhead a bell rang, and other officers began passing them in the hallway on their ways to roll call. Clasping Halt by the shoulder, Mack shook it gently, his eyes becoming worried as the officer remained silent.

"I just wanted to let you know before briefing; this isn't something we can involve ourselves in."

 He left them standing in an awkward little group in the hall, heading with the rest of the men to the briefing room. As Halt met Gilan's eyes he shrugged his shoulders.

"You heard him," he said tartly. "Accidental."

"Yeah, but I don't like it." 

As they moved on, both seemed to have forgotten Will's presence entirely. He followed quietly, wondering what further dark tidings the day could possibly bring.