To be a Commander

You Know, Don't You

Crowley and Halt dragged the six bandits back to their camp. They'd been secured with thumb cuffs, though not after a good fight. Crowley, Halt noticed, had a long cut on his back and Halt, Crowley saw, had a gash near his ribs.

"Might want to get that fixed up." Halt commented, finishing securing the bandits to the trees. Crowley nodded, pulling out a roll of bandages and reaching to disinfect Halt's cut. Flopping down, Halt let his friend do his work. Then Crowley took the disinfectant and reached backwards.

"I'll do it." Halt said. Crowley shook his head. "I can." he replied. Halt rolled his eyes. 

"With arms that short? I doubt it." he said acerbically. "Let me."

Crowley hesitated for a moment, then groaned and passed the disinfectant towards Halt. Reaching over, Halt pushed the tunic up and blinked in shock.

Scars littered Crowley's back. Lash marks. Rope marks. Burns. Cuts that looked like letters. Jagged lines and old bruises.

"Just do it." Crowley said quietly. "I'll tell you later."

With a nod, Halt cleaned and bandaged the cut while Crowley stoked the fire and started making some bread. Leaving Crowley to do the camp chores, Halt went out to hunt.

When he came back, it was to the sight of some potatoes cooking on a spit and greens cooking in a pot. Wordlessly, Halt settled down next to Crowley and helped cook the rabbit stew.

As they were eating, Halt turned to his Commandant and raised a brow.

"Well?" he asked.

Crowley knew what Halt was talking about. Setting aside his bowl, Crowley leaned back against a stump and stared up at the sky.

"I was seven years old." Crowley said quietly. "Mother and Father were arguing about something and they told me to go outside. I brought Calli with me."

Halt guessed Calli was Crowley's sister.

"We were playing near the forest when I thought I saw something. I turned my head to look and six bandits jumped towards us." Crowley took a deep breath, then continued. "Mother saw what was happening. She ran outside. By then, I was holding Calli and running towards our house. What I didn't notice was that the bandits were gone, or that a wagon was coming towards me. Mom saw this and she jumped in front of Calli and I. She died, but Callisto and I were safe."

Halt nodded for Crowley to go on. The man in question sighed soundlessly and stared into the forest, as if seeing it all again.

"When I was twelve, Calli died. She had a terrible fever and the healer didn't make it on time." Crowley smiled bitterly. "Father already had a drinking problem and it worsened after Mom died. That night, he went to the tavern and drank and drank and drank."

"How much?" Halt found himself asking, though he really didn't want to know.

"Enough." Crowley said softly. "When he came home...."

Halt swallowed. His mouth felt suddenly dry and he wished he hadn't asked Crowley.

Instead of going on, Crowley simply rolled up the sleeve of his tunic and Halt realized why the redhead never wore short sleeves. Rope marks on his wrist. Burns. Cuts. What looked like whip marks and lash marks. 

"Three years." Crowley's voice was quiet and haunted. "Three years of this. Eventually, I realized that it wasn't my fault Mother died. But that didn't matter to him. Of course, I got apprenticed to Pritchard, he found out what happened pretty quickly, and then the rest is history."

They sat in silence for some time, watching the fire. Crowley rubbed a scar absent-mindedly, normally cheery hazel eyes dark.

"Well." The Commandant's voice was full of forced cheer. "Do you want to take first watch or should I?"

"I'll do it." Halt said.

He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.