Triss caught the frosty gleam of Geralt's hair in the moonlight and suppressed a sigh. Shivering, she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and stepped out onto the balcony which protruded from the west wall of the castle where her private rooms were located. It was near freezing and her breath fogged in the crisp night air, the cloudless sky above her littered with thousands of stars. It was quiet except for the soft padding of her feet on the stone tiles and the soft rustle of the wind in the autumn trees.

Geralt was leaning against the banister, eyes vacant, his elbows propped on the railing. He had donned a pair of pants and a tunic to ward off the night chill, but the thin layer of clothing looked terribly insufficient. She wondered if he actually felt warm due to his enhanced metabolism, or if he welcomed the distraction of the biting cold. Judging by the tense look on his face, it was probably the latter. He cast her a brief glance as she approached, acknowledging her presence, then turned to look into the distance again.

"I had hoped to find you sleeping," she said quietly as she approached him, assuming position at his side. The coldness of the railing penetrated the soft silk of her sleeves as she rested her arms on it. "It's well past midnight."

"Would you believe me if I told you I'd been waiting up for you?"

Triss gave a wan smile. She knew that he hadn't, but it was a flattering thought.

"Have you?"

"Of course."

He caught her raised brow from the corner of his eyes and added, "After I realized that I couldn't get back to sleep."

Even though she had expected that answer, she couldn't help but shake her head in response.

"Another nightmare?"

He gave a vague shrug, obviously not wanting to talk about it.

"How was the council meeting?" He asked disinterestedly.

"Tedious," she admitted, not particularly happy about him avoiding the topic at hand. "We're not one step closer to a trade agreement than three days ago. Foltest seems to be ready to throw the towel, and frankly speaking, I agree."

"Hmm."

Due to the ongoing negotiations, she hadn't been able to see him much in the past days and meetings had often continued well into the night. It had been frustrating, knowing that Geralt would want to leave soon with winter only a few weeks away, which meant that the time she could still spend with him was short. It would have been nice to actually get the chance to enjoy his company.

He remained silent, apparently not interested in the details of politics, and continued staring ahead. She followed his gaze. The night sky reflected in the waters surrounding the city and along its shore, reed protruding in straight lines from the soft grass. The meadows stretched far into the distance where they melted into the dark silhouette of Brokilon forest. Under different circumstances, Triss would have found the view quite romantic. With things being as they were, she found herself unable to enjoy the scenery.

"You dreamed about her again, didn't you," she tried again, carefully avoiding to look at him. Being a healer, she understood how difficult it was to talk about what troubled the mind, and experience had taught her that being stared at didn't help. If anything, it made things worse.

She caught his nod from the corner of her eyes.

"Please tell me about it."

Again, there was no answer, and even though it was expected, it was nonetheless frustrating. After all this time he had spent at her place, she had hoped that he would finally be able to confide in her, especially since she already knew what his nightmares were about.

Basically, they were all the same as the underlying theme never changed. They always dealt with the sorceress who had cursed him, the woman who had forced her will onto him. At times she would take on the shape of a monster, a kikimora or a basilisk, some beast that the witcher had encountered in battle before. However, now it would bear some of her features, her colorless eyes or her piercing voice. Sometimes, he would run, haunted by an unspeakable horror that he knew he couldn't escape. But whatever form his former tormentor appeared in, he would always be incapable of defeating her. He would be frozen, paralyzed by some sort of poison - or worse, forced to use his sword against himself.

More than once she had witnessed him call out in his sleep, lash out at some invisible enemy to finally bolt upright with wide eyes, face covered with sweat. Sleeplessness usually ensued. It had taken her a while to come up with the right combination of herbs to remedy his condition, something that improved his rest without sedating him too deeply and depriving him of the possibility of waking from his dreams. In the end, they had settled on a mixture of valerian, hop and passionflower, enhanced by a good portion of magic.

"I saw that you didn't drink the tea I made for you," she chided softly. "I thought that it helped."

"I wanted to see if I could manage without it."

His voice sounded hoarse, and she cast him a sidelong glance, trying to read his face. Even in the frail light of the moon, the shadows beneath his eyes were clearly visible. He looked troubled. Worn.

"Why?"

He sighed deeply and lowered his head.

"Because I can't go on like this, Triss." His voice was pitched low but she didn't miss the barely concealed frustration that laced his words. "It's been almost two weeks, and there has been no improvement at all."

She lifted her brows in surprise, feeling like she had missed something important.

"I thought you've been doing a lot better the past days."

"Yes," he scoffed. "Under the influence of your drugs. But you can't expect me to drink sleeping potions for the rest of my life."

"Well, it's just been a couple of days. Maybe you just need to be more patient."

"I have been patient," he retorted angrily and Triss jumped a little, startled at the sudden outburst of emotion. "I should have been way past this. But I still feel her in my head. I see her face every night. It's like part of her is buried inside my mind." Distractedly, his hand trailed up to rub his temple. "When I went to the hanging today, I thought that watching her die would do the trick. But it changed nothing."

Feeling his anguish, she laid a light hand on his arm. Through the finely spun fabric of his tunic, she could feel how cold he was. He must have been out here longer than she had thought.

"You have been through a lot," she offered. "You need to give yourself more time."

He shook his head, lips pressed into a taut line.

"You don't know the things I've lived through. I have suffered far worse, by the hands of men and monsters alike, and I have never experienced anything like this. Why hasn't this gone away?" His eyes challenged her, questioning her. "Is it the remains of the curse? The bits that you were unable to remove?"

Triss lowered her gaze and tightened her lips. She had done everything in her power to break the spell that had been laid on him, but it had been beyond her skills to remove every single trace of it. The anchor points of the curse were still embedded in his mind, and though she had told him that they wouldn't hinder him in his daily business, now she wasn't so sure anymore. They were a foreign matter after all, not unlike a splinter in one's flesh, and it was possible that they still caused him pain. However, given the nature of his night terrors, she suspected there was more to it than that.

Feeling his gaze weigh on her expectantly, she gave a helpless shrug.

"I don't know," she admitted. "At this point, it's hard to tell."

His jaw worked in frustration.

"Listen," she said tentatively, "I know you probably don't want to hear it, but being subjected to a spell of mind-control is nothing to be taken lightly. Your thoughts have been repeatedly invaded and you've been forced to kill. You faced the prospect of a life in slavery. An experience like that would scare anybody."

Only that a witcher was supposed to be strong enough to cope. He didn't have to say it out loud, she could see it in his eyes.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. Give yourself some more time," she repeated gently. "Look, I don't know why you're in such a hurry anyway. It's almost winter and you said you wanted to return to Kaer Morhen. If you like, I could open a portal and take you home. You've told me that your witcher brothers are the closest thing to family you have. If you feel safe there -", she paused when she saw the expression on his face.

"I don't want to go home. Not before I know what's going on with me."

"Why not?"

He avoided her gaze, frowning. As it became clear to her that he wouldn't respond, Triss extended her mind and reached out, gently, barely touching his thoughts to listen in. Having been in his mind before, it was easy to make a connection. Images of dark corridors flashed across her mind, sparsely furnished rooms, a spacious hall with a roaring fire in its hearth. The unfamiliar faces of other witchers. Their names appeared in her thoughts of their own volition. Vesemir, Eskel, Lambert. Impersonations of physical and mental strength.

She saw the emptiness of the castle, the deserted laboratory, lonely winter days stretching endlessly ahead. She felt the haunting presence of those who had lived and died there and all of a sudden, she understood.

In his current state, Geralt didn't dare to return to a place that isolated, a place that harbored so many ghosts of its own. Haunted by nightmares, he was scared for his sanity, scared that he might have to spend months like this, unable to free himself of the woman who had enslaved his mind. Once the paths were snowed in, there would be no way to send for a healer in case it got worse. For the first time, she realized how badly he had been suffering those past days and she hated herself for not noticing sooner. For not being there for him. Wasting her time at council meetings when she should have been looking for a cure.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

His head snapped up, and too late, she realized her mistake.

"Get out of my head," he said sharply, nostrils flaring. "What is it with you mages that makes you think you're entitled to snoop around in other people's thoughts?"

"Geralt..."

She reached to place an appeasing hand on his arm but he swatted it away.

"No!" He glared at her, livid, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. "I really thought you'd know better than that. That was not for you to see."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, rattled by his sudden outburst. His face was a mask of fury, his muscles taut with rage. He seemed ready to lunge out. The sight scared her to the core. She had thought that he trusted her, that since he had freely allowed her into his thoughts before, it would be okay. It seemed she had been mistaken.

However, given what Celaena had done to him, his reaction probably wasn't surprising. With a sudden pang of remorse, she realized she should have anticipated it.

"It won't happen again."

"No, it won't."

He stormed past her and she stood for a long moment, cursing herself for being so stupid. In the past minutes, she might well have destroyed whatever trust there had been between them.

Closing her eyes, she silently begged the Goddess for help before following him inside.

The bedchamber was dark except for the single candle on the nightstand. The flickering light cast long shadows about the room, barely revealing the shape of the large wardrobe in the corner, the narrow cabinet and the cushioned armchair beside the fireplace. The single bed was the only thing that was touched by the light and she found Geralt's bowed form on the edge of the mattress, head cradled in his hands.

Triss lingered in the doorway and gazed at him in silence, unsure what to do.

Finally, she made up her mind and walked over to the cabinet where the tea she had made him still stood untouched. She took the cold cup into her hands and ran her fingers along its rim, working a simple heat spell to rewarm its contents, then renewed the spells of potency that already lay on the beverage. When she approached Geralt, he looked up, wearily as if the whole world was lying on his shoulders. The anger from before had vanished from his face, making room for an expression of utter exhaustion. He accepted the cup quietly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm not sure what got into me."

"There's no need to apologize. I should have asked for your permission. This was my fault."

He shook his head and gestured her to sit beside him.

"I know you didn't want to pry. You were only trying to help. It's just -" He gazed at the floor. "I think I've had my fill of other people messing with my mind."

"I know," she said softly, following his invitation and seating herself at his side. From up close, he looked even worse. She wondered what his latest nightmare had been about exactly but didn't dare ask, and she certainly wouldn't make another attempt to read his mind. She cast her eyes down, looking at her hands and waited for him to talk. This time, she would accept his silence, she vowed to herself. If he didn't feel like sharing, it would be okay.

"Maybe you're right," he said after a while. "Maybe she really got under my skin. Maybe this doesn't have anything to do with whatever remains of her curse."

Triss looked at him.

"It might help to talk about it," she tried carefully. "Acknowledge what you've been through, what it did to you. How you feel about it."

He huffed a laugh, humorless and bitter. "I'm not one to talk about feelings."

"That might be the problem."

"Well, it's never been a problem before."

The way his shoulders tensed, she could tell the mere thought of it made him instinctively close up, and it occurred to her that even if he chose to address his emotions, he probably wouldn't be able to. All his life, survival had depended on his facade of invincibility, and by now it must have become a habit, intuitive and natural, like putting on his armor before a fight. He might not even be able to recognize the feelings that churned up inside him, lest name them. The fact that she was a sorceress, capable of penetrating his defenses just like Celaena had done, didn't help either. With a pang of regret, she realized that maybe she simply wasn't the right person to confide in.

Too bad he was refusing to return to Kaer Morhen. His brothers might be able to give him the moral support he so desperately needed, as they were witchers, too. He might be able to open up to them. On the other hand, if they were anything like Geralt, there was a fair chance that they wouldn't talk about feelings either.

Idly, she wondered how he had coped in the past. From what he had said before, there had been countless situations with the potential of causing severe mental trauma and he had always been able to deal with it. Geralt wasn't one to break easily. So what if it really had something to do with the curse? Was it possible that the anchor points were linked to especially painful memories, and as a result caused him this much distress? Maybe it was the signature of Celaena's chaos that constantly reminded him of what had happened?

She kneaded her lip and concluded that it couldn't be ruled out. She simply knew too little about curses like this, and Celaena had made some changes to the spell, which made things even more complicated. Maybe it was time to seek the help of someone who specialized in this kind of magic.

"It might be the curse after all," she thought out loud, shooting him a quick glance.

He gave a helpless shrug.

"Even if that's the case, I'll never find out. You said there was no way to remove the anchor points."

"That's not exactly true. I said that I couldn't remove them. At least not without causing serious damage. But there might be others who can."

He looked up at her, pale hair falling like a veil past his shoulders, and she saw the sliver of hope in his eyes.

"What are you implying?"

"Well, it seems like the trade negotiations have come to a premature end, which means I'm free. Actually, I think I should pay a visit to some old friends at Aretuza. Some of them might be able to help or know someone who can. If not, there are still the archives and arcane library. I can't make any promises, but I think it's worth a shot."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course. Geralt, I -" she stopped herself when she realized what she was about to say. She had never admitted it to herself, at least not in the way she felt it right now, and she wondered if she should let him know. How much she cared about him. But when she saw his face, drawn and pale from lack of sleep, she knew that it was not the right moment.

"I'm your friend. I want to help you."

He nodded tiredly.

"I'm grateful," he replied softly, looking very much like he felt undeserving.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them.

"I'll leave tomorrow", she said at length. "There's no need for delay. Do you want to come along?"

"To have even more people prodding at my mind?" His mouth twisted sarcastically. "No, thank you. Actually, I'm thinking of going on a trip of my own."

That came as a surprise. She had always assumed that when he left, it would be to return to the Blue Mountains, back to Kaer Morhen. He had never mentioned other plans to her.

"I ran into an old friend today," he continued, "and he wanted to join me for some monster hunting."

"A witcher contract? Are you feeling up to that?"

He shrugged.

"Physically, I'm fine. And with the help of your tea, I should rest easily enough."

Thoughtfully, he swirled the cup in his hands, watching the moving liquid catch the candlelight. Steam rose from the beverage, indicating that it was still hot. He shot her a glance when he noticed the skeptical expression on her face.

"I think I'd really appreciate some normalcy," Geralt added. "Get back on the road. I really don't like the idea of just hanging around your place."

It was a wish she could understand, and it might actually help to take his mind off things. Her place didn't offer much in terms of distraction for a witcher, and it was clear that an outdoor person like Geralt wouldn't tolerate the confinement of her rooms for long. Maybe this friend of his was even someone he trusted enough to confide in.

"Well, I don't see why you shouldn't. Just take it easy. Where are you headed?"

"It's a two days' ride up to the forests in the north. A village called Twin Brooks. I should be back in five days or so."

Triss nodded, making a mental note. "I'll probably have some results by then."

"Hopefully something good."

"I'll do my best."

"I know."

The last words came as a sigh. Tentatively, he reached for her hand and she felt her heart skip a beat at the unexpected touch. In the past days, it had always been her showing affection, always her reaching out to him, and she didn't dare get her hopes up. She cast him a questioning glance and he squeezed her hand in response.

"Thank you, Triss." His eyes sought hers. "I mean it. And please forgive me for yelling at you like that. You didn't deserve it."

She opened her mouth to respond but found that now of all times, she was unable to take hold of a clear thought. Lost for words, she hesitated for terribly long moments, and when she became aware of the confusion on his face, she realized that she should probably do the obvious and accept his apology.

"It's okay."

It wasn't exactly the answer she had in mind but it would have to do.

"Don't you want to drink your tea?" She suggested, feeling awkward.

"Yes, you're right."

He sipped at the tea, grimacing at its foul taste, and then emptied it in one go, placing it on the nightstand after he had finished. Then he got to his feet and without much ado, shrugged out of his tunic, getting ready to return to bed. She watched him drape it over the back of the armchair and couldn't help but marvel at his bare torso, his muscled back, the scars that bespoke countless victorious fights. When he turned, he noticed that she still hadn't gotten up, and shot her a wan smile.

"I can take it from here."

She didn't doubt it. However, she didn't want to leave. Not after he had taken her hand into his like that. Then again, it was obvious that somehow she had missed her chance. She didn't have to read his mind to know that right now, all he craved was a good night's rest and a sleep devoid of dreams.

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

She pushed to her feet and smoothed her dress, all formal politeness. Again, he gave her that tired smile.

"I'll be fine."

"Well," she said, still hesitant, hoping against hope that he would ask her to stay when she knew he wouldn't. In fact, he would deem it unsafe, having argued before that he feared hurting her while in the throes of a nightmare. They were also the reason why he had insisted on a separate room, not wanting to unintentionally wake her in the dead of night. "Good night, Geralt. Sleep well."

"You too. See you in the morning."

She left then, hating herself for not being more forward, and at the same time feeling that it would have been no use anyway. Some things couldn't be forced. Well, she mentally corrected herself, at least they shouldn't be forced. Before she closed the door behind her, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder and caught him folding back the sheets, his bare shape outlined by the light of the single candle beside his bed. Under the influence of the tea, he would probably rest well tonight.

Triss felt with certainty that she wouldn't.