It had been snowing for hours. Wind lashed mercilessly against the windows, driving swirls of icy flakes before it. The flowerbeds of the temple garden were already buried under several inches of snow and, judging by the leaden sky, there was yet more to come. By now, the pass to Kaer Morhen was surely frozen over, too dangerous to travel. It was too late for the journey home.

Gaze empty, Geralt slumped in his chair and watched the outside world disappear. It wasn't the first winter he'd have to spend away from his brothers, but this time the thought was especially hard to bear. More than ever, he longed for Eskel's good-natured chatter and Lambert's snarks, the quiet reassurance of Vesemir. Sure, they would want to know what weighed on his mind, but they wouldn't press for details, would allow him to just be. With the curse finally lifted, he wished for nothing more than that. Some peace and quiet, and the company of his family to help him heal.

Across the room, Jaskier was perched on the bed, plucking away on his lute. Their previous game of cards lay neglected on the table. The bard had brought it in hopes of lifting his mood, but Geralt had been too distracted to truly enjoy it, and at some point, they had just given up. After a piece of honeycomb cake, which they had shared in silence, Geralt had retreated to the window to dwell on his thoughts.

Tentatively, he flexed the fingers of his injured arm, wincing at the pain it still caused him. However, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. One more week, and he would be well enough to travel, not having to depend on the aid of others anymore. A few stitches wouldn't keep him; he would be able to remove them himself once the time came. The most important thing was to get out of this goddamned city as soon as he could. Maybe Brugge would be a good choice, or Sodden. He hadn't been there in a while.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a respectful tap at the door. The lute play stopped.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor."

A round face had appeared in the open doorway. It was one of the girls who had taken care of him in the past days, helping him change the bandages and apply salve to the cuts that were hard to reach. She gave him a small smile.

"Miss Merigold is here to see you."

The muscles in his jaw twitched. It wasn't the first time Triss had come to speak with him, and he still had no desire to do so. The mere thought of it made him want to smash something against the wall.

"Tell her to go away."

The girl gave a small nod.

"That's alright. I'll just tell her to come back some other time."

"No. Tell her not to come back at all."

Jaskier shot him a pointed look and the door clicked shut, followed by the sound of departing footfalls. Ignoring the gaze weighing on him, Geralt turned away, silently hoping that Jaskier would get the message. He did not want advice on the matter, thank you very much. This was his business, and his alone.

Jaskier pensively strummed a chord.

"You should talk to her, you know."

"I'm really not in the mood, Jaskier."

Geralt glowered at him in a way that would have made any other man shut up. However, the bard seemed completely untroubled.

"You'll have to, eventually," Jaskier pointed out, plucking a few notes. "Besides, it'll make you feel better."

Somehow, he doubted that. In the past days, he had done little else besides mulling things over, trying to come to terms with what Triss had done. Sure, she had saved him, he acknowledged that, but she had also manipulated him in a way he could not wrap his head around. The curse had made him vulnerable, mentally and emotionally, and she had taken advantage of it without hesitation. It had been a terrible realization, one that had left him scared and hurt and indescribably angry.

What good would it do to talk to her? She knew perfectly well what she had done. It would be like twisting the knife in the wound, doing more harm than good.

"Stay out of this," he grumbled. "This is really none of your concern."

"Geralt, please." Jaskier let out a sigh. The bed creaked as he shifted to face him properly, putting down his lute. "I'm just trying to help. It's all I've been trying to do the past days, but frankly speaking, I don't think that card games and cake are going to do the trick. You need closure. And you'll only find that by facing the problem." He paused to give Geralt room for an answer, and when he realized there wouldn't be one, he continued, a hint of frustration edging his voice. "Look at you. The curse is lifted, and you're still a mess. Did you even sleep this night?"

"Talking won't change that."

"At least give it a try," he suggested. "Let her explain herself. Have you even considered that there might be two sides of the picture?"

He shot him a dark glance, by now considerably irritated by the bard's insistence.

"You don't even know what you're talking about."

"What, you think I've never been betrayed?" He paused, thinking things over. "Yes, okay, probably not like that. But that doesn't mean I can't relate. Damn it, Geralt, you need to talk to her. I bet she feels exactly as miserable about this as you. This has been – what? The third time she asked to see you? She cares about you. The least you can do is hear her out."

"Jaskier -"

The bard effectively cut him off, ignoring the dark look on his face.

"Come on, Geralt. You're a witcher. You face every monster head on. Don't tell me you're afraid to talk to the woman who saved your life."

That shut him up.

Maybe Jaskier had a point there. Maybe he was afraid, though it escaped him what exactly he what scared him. It was just Triss, after all.

"She's gone by now anyway," he muttered. "She wouldn't - "

"That, my friend, is just a sorry excuse." Jaskier jumped to his feet, snagging his jacket from where he had thrown it over the back of the chair. Count on the bard to catch on the exact moment Geralt was about to cave in. He waved his finger in Geralt's direction as if was chiding a bratty schoolboy. "You'd better think about what you want to tell her because I'll be back with her in a sec."

"Jaskier," he groaned. "Please don't -"

But the bard was out of the door before he could even finish his sentence.

Fuck.

Muttering a curse under his breath, he pushed to his feet and moved his chair back to the table. With an impatient gesture, he brushed the remaining cake crumbs to the floor, then stowed away the cards, trying to ignore the uneasiness he felt inside. He had no idea what to say to her. Truth be told, right now he would have preferred to face another striga, broken arm and all.

It didn't take long until there was a shy knock at the opened door, and he had to force himself to meet her gaze.

"Triss."

She looked frail. Her face was reddened from the cold, snowflakes melting in her dark curls and on her cloak.

"Geralt."

She stood in the doorway, hesitating, unsure whether she was allowed to come in. The haunted look in her eyes hurt him more than he had anticipated, and he firmed his lips in sudden anger. She had no right to feel bad. After all, it was her who had betrayed him. For a moment, he felt the urge of just telling her to get the hell out of here, but deep down, he knew that Jaskier was right. As much as he hated it, this was necessary.

He let out a deep breath, then gestured her to join him at the table. She closed the door behind her. As she sat, a hint of jasmine wafted over to him, the once pleasant scent now bitter and stale. She took her time to work off her velvet gloves, and when she was done, she folded them neatly before placing them on a table before her.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said softly. "I know you didn't want to."

He glared at her and she bore the unspoken accusation with an air of hopelessness.

"How are you doing?"

The question made him bristle. How the hell did she think he was doing? The fact that he was still in the goddamn healing wing of the temple instead of on the road where he belonged had to speak for itself. Besides, she had no right to be worried about him anymore. Not after what she had done.

"The healing spells must have worn off by now. I can renew them if you'd like. Speed up recovery."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

She sighed, lips firming in frustration. He knew his words were hurting her but he couldn't help himself. He was so fucking angry.

"Look, I'm sorry." The words came out as a whisper. "I know I messed up. I shouldn't have forced your decision on the matter, but I didn't know what else to do. It was the only way to help you, and I couldn't bear the thought of just standing by. Not when the only thing that was keeping you was your concern for me."

He felt his gut clench at her words. If it had been anybody else, he might have been able to deal with this. He was used to being lied to, to be manipulated, especially when it came to mages. But Triss? He had believed her when she had told him she would respect his decision, no matter what.

"You promised." His voice was hoarse. "You promised you would not do this without my consent."

"I know. And I feel terrible about it. But I didn't want to lose you, and when you mentioned suicide - " She helplessly lifted her shoulders, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Damn it, Geralt. What was I supposed to do? I didn't even know if it was you making the decision or if it was just the curse messing with your mind."

He set his jaw. The way she said it, she was even making sense. Still, he couldn't help feeling betrayed, violated in the most intimate of ways. She had used her powers to gain access to his most private thoughts, to memories he had never shared with anyone. The fact that he had trusted her made it so much worse.

"Would you do it again?"

He saw her clutch her hands, her face taut with misery.

"What does it matter? What's done is done."

"It matters a great deal," he insisted. "If you could turn back time, knowing what you know now, would you do it again?"

She lowered her gaze.

"It was the only way to help you."

"That's what I thought." The words tasted bitter on his tongue. "So much for your heartfelt apology. Damn it, Triss. You above all persons should have known better. All your talk about how magic shouldn't be used to enslave others, and once I don't do as you wish you just snap your fingers and force your will upon me. Really, you are no different than Celaena, or every other mage for that matter. It's all about what you think is right."

Her eyes shot up, shining with hurt and anger.

"So, you'd rather I'd let you die?"

"Well, at least it would have been my decision."

She huffed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you've never used your witcher signs to sway somebody's mind. If you had been in my place, what would you have done? Wouldn't you have gladly put your life on the line to save someone you care for? Even if said person didn't want it?" Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't cry. Like a soldier, she tried to keep up a brave front, her hands folded so tightly her knuckles turned white. "You know, when I decided to force your decision on the matter, it hurt me as well. It went against everything I believe in. But forced to decide between bending your will and letting you die, I chose the lesser evil."

He let that sink in. She sounded like she really meant it. Oddly enough, he had to think of Blaviken where he'd had to make a shit choice as well. One that still haunted him.

The memory caused a question to form in the back of his mind, silently and nagging.

"Did you ever plan on telling me?"

His words were quiet, and a pained expression crossed her features.

"I was afraid how you would react."

At least she was honest about it. Still, it didn't change the fact that she would have kept it from him, and he didn't like the thought one bit. His jaw worked, his shoulders stiff with tension.

"Damn it Geralt, I didn't want to lose you. Can you really blame me for that?" She searched his eyes, begging for an answer.

He remained silent for a while. He could see the dilemma she had found herself in, he wasn't stupid. She had tried to convince him, he remembered that, and he had hated the idea of her getting hurt. In the end, she had risked their budding relationship to make sure he would live. Maybe it had been the better choice.

Then again, she had never planned on telling him, and he was not sure if he could forgive that.

"What's going on in your head right now?" She asked softly. "Please say something."

He struggled to find the words. He wasn't good at talking about what he felt, he never had been. The conflicting emotions churning in his chest didn't make it any easier.

"Look, Triss," he began slowly, wrenching the words from his throat. "I am grateful you saved my life, and I thank you for that. But the fact that you went behind my back like that – that you didn't even plan to tell me..." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "It hurts more than you can imagine."

She nodded, face closed off and sad. He realized that she had expected something like this.

"So, where does this leave us?"

He shook his head helplessly.

"I don't know."

She leaned towards him, tilting her head a little to catch his gaze.

"I love you. You know that, right? And I know you feel the same way. At least you did." She paused, regret on her face. "But the trust is gone, isn't it."

She didn't even pose it as a question.

Unable to object, he ran a hand over his face and let go of a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Triss. I don't know if we can fix this."

"I understand." She sounded every bit as broken as she looked. "But I'm glad you're alive. And maybe, one day you'll be able to forgive me."

She moved to lay a hand on his, but her arm didn't quite reach and only their fingers touched. He gazed at her, seeing the devastation written on her face. He knew the words she wanted to hear, the words she needed to hear so badly, but he wouldn't lie. Not about this. So, he said the next best thing and hoped that it would be enough.

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking for."

She gave him a sad smile and slowly withdrew her hand.

"Do you still trust me enough to open a portal for you? Back to Kaer Morhen?"

His first instinct was to refuse, assuming that she again had read his thoughts uninvited, but then he remembered that she had offered it to begin with. It was the only reason he had agreed to stay in the first place. With the raging snowstorm outside, it was only natural that it would have crossed her mind.

He nodded, grateful for the offer.

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

Relief flooded her eyes, and some of the tension left her shoulders.

"Alright." She quietly reached for her gloves. "If you change your mind about the healing spell, just let me know."

They met just outside the city gates a few days after. Triss spotted Geralt by the signpost, the hood of his cloak drawn deep into his face, his horse saddled and ready for the journey. Next to him, Jaskier gestured widely, apparently engaged in a lively yet one-sided conversation. He stood with his back to her, but she easily identified him by the bright red breeches that peeked out from under his thick traveling cloak.

Drawing her own fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders, she approached in quick strides. Geralt noticed her first, and when he nodded his greeting, Jaskier turned around to face her as well.

"Triss!" The bard exclaimed, a look of absolute delight on his face. His breath made white puffs in the chilly air. "I am so glad you're finally here. It is absolutely freezing, and though I am not exactly a delicate flower, I was starting to worry about my musical fingers."

He blew on his bare hands as if to emphasize his point.

"Maybe a pair of gloves would be in order then," she pointed out the obvious.

He gave her a smile. "And here I was, hoping you would cast a warming spell."

Brows raised, her eyes flickered up to Geralt's, and he nudged the bard from behind.

"You could have stayed at the inn."

"Nonsense." Jaskier hid his hands under his cloak with a look of indignation. "It's not that cold."

Roach shook her head as if to comment and Geralt patted her neck, reaching for her tethers. It was a natural gesture, devoid of the pained stiffness that had accompanied his movements the past days. Triss was surprised how much it relieved her.

"So," she went on conversationally. "I see you're all ready and set to go."

From up close, she could see that Geralt looked a lot better indeed. The taut lines of pain had vanished from his face, and so had the shadows beneath his eyes. She couldn't remember when she had last seen him that well-rested. The only thing that gave away his past ordeal was the way he held his arm. She knew that below the fabric of his sleeve, it was still splinted, the bones not yet fully healed.

"Is there anything I can do for you before you leave?"

He shook his head, a white strand of hair hanging into his face.

"Thank you," he said simply. "You've done more than enough."

There was no hostility in his voice, but she still felt a stab into her heart. The warmth in his eyes was gone. He was distant, his guarded friendliness little more than what he would have offered any stranger.

She struggled to contain her response, feeling she deserved it. There was nothing she could do to take back what she had done. Sensing Jaskier's eyes resting on them, she didn't want to get back into the argument either. They had said everything that needed to be said. Now, only time would show if they would find the way back to each other. Considering how deeply she had hurt him, she didn't deem it likely though. She could call herself lucky if at any point he'd regard her as a friend again.

"So, it's goodbye then."

She wanted so badly to pull him close one last time, take his hand at least, but she didn't dare to. He wouldn't welcome it, and to be refused right here in front of Jaskier would make it so much worse. Quietly, she pulled her cloak tighter around her narrow frame, seeking comfort in the warmth it provided.

"Farewell." He gave her a small smile, then directed his glance at Jaskier. "Thank you, too."

Jaskier's face brightened. His cheeks were red from the biting wind, his hair a tousled mess. The spark in his eyes told her he was genuinely happy to be awarded a thanks of his own.

"Glad I could help. You sure you don't want me to come along?"

Geralt huffed.

"Kaer Morhen is no place for a bard."

"Ah, but it's a witcher's castle, so it's got to be full of intriguing stories. What else is there to do in the dark winter months than sitting around the fireplace, sharing one's latest adventures? Surely, not all witchers are as taciturn as you." He smiled hopefully, and when Geralt's expression remained stony as ever, he shrugged. "Oh, well. Maybe next time. Make sure to see me around in spring. You still owe me a story after all."

Geralt opened his mouth to protest, but then apparently thought better of it. "I guess, I do."

"I'll take you by your word, witcher."

Jaskier's smile widened, and Geralt nodded in confirmation.

"Triss?"

It was time, no sense in delaying things any further. She could cry later. Now she would have to get him home. Shoulders straight, she stepped into the middle of the road and stretched her arms wide, channeling the chaos around her to open the passage. Before them, the air folded in a swirl of colors. Beyond the haze, she could make out the blurred shapes of battlements and towers. A gust of wind brought the earthy scent of the woods, the chill of fresh mountain air.

"Come on, Roach," Geralt muttered beside her.

He gave her an appreciative nod and walked past her, leading his horse along, and she watched them disappear into the wavering light of the portal. Wind raked her hair as it closed behind him. He was gone.

He was gone and he would never come back.

She swallowed drily, fighting the tears that stung her eyes, and when she was sure to have regained her composure, she turned abruptly and left.

As she made her way back to the city, Jaskier fell into step aside her.

"Wait."

"I'm not going to warm your hands," she said irritably, wishing very much for him to leave her alone. Now that she had gotten to know him a little, she wondered how Geralt had formed a friendship with this man of all people. Sure, he was kind-hearted, she could see that, but he could also be terribly annoying. Most of all, he rarely seemed to stop talking. How someone as taciturn and single-minded as Geralt could find his company appealing was completely beyond her.

"I didn't expect you to," he laughed. "Sorry, sometimes my tongue works faster than my brain."

The statement was so disarming that it actually mollified her.

"Alright." She stopped, exhaling a long breath. His smile was gentle in a way she hadn't expected, the look in his eyes warm and sincere. "What do you want from me?"

She really hoped it was something she could deal with quickly. Now that Geralt had left, without so much as a press of her hand or a smile, she felt herself slowly falling apart. Her throat was painfully tight, and all she wanted was to return home, lock the door behind her and allow herself to grieve.

"There's something I wanted to tell you," he said. A gust of wind ruffled his hair and she could see that his ears were red from the cold. "Maybe this is none of my concern, maybe it doesn't make a difference anyway." He lifted his shoulders, giving an apologetic smile. "But I wanted you to know that after your falling out with Geralt – and, yes, you don't have to tell me, I probably shouldn't have listened, but you weren't exactly keeping it down, and it was hard not to." He noticed he was rambling and cut himself off, then started anew. "Anyway. I just wanted you to know that you did the right thing. He might not see it that way, but I do, and I wanted you to thank you for it." He gave a vague shrug that was accompanied by another smile. "So, thank you for saving him."

It wasn't what she had expected and she found herself a little overwhelmed. His words were completely inappropriate, she really didn't know him that well, and she was a court mage after all. She shouldn't even be conversing with him about things like that. Still, she couldn't help feeling touched, and some of the tightness in her chest eased. Helplessly, she shook her head.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well." It seemed like he was about to suggest something, but then he changed his mind. "I just thought maybe it's some comfort to know that your sacrifice was noticed."

He softly touched her arm and nodded at her, then plodded along the snowy street towards the city. She lingered for a while, watching his huddled form become smaller in the distance, and when he was finally out of sight, she slowly followed.

So, that's the end to my second story in the witcher verse. Apologies to all of you who hoped for a happily ever after. I wasn't sure myself how things would turn out between Triss and Geralt until I finished the scene, and in the end I just went with what felt right.

Thank you for reading, and if you feel like giving me some feedback or share your thoughts, I'd love to hear from you!