so this is the last full arc of part 1, and also one of the first plotlines i had for this as a whole. i'm kind of glad i'd already scheduled last week off and it fell here because this took a lot longer to write than i thought it would - you'd think that having a scene in my head for so long would make it easier, but it absolutely did not. i don't want to beat a dead horse too much, but if y'all read the headcanons list i put up a couple weeks ago this scenario should sound pretty familiar lol – Bel

A Wolf Among Lilacs
Part One: Longing/Regret
Chapter Thirteen: The Point of No Return

"Ten days." Triss closed the lid on her food as forcefully as it was possible for someone to shut a styrofoam container. "She's been in there for ten days and none of you seem even the slightest bit concerned!"

"Perhaps because she can take care of herself." Regis didn't look up from the papers in front of him. Yennefer's more than conspicuous absence meant he was the only one at the table who wasn't eating, and the sight of the empty space next to him was setting everyone on edge. At first, Geralt had gotten the impression that this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. When Istredd left, rather abruptly and in a terrible mood, no one seemed surprised that Yennefer had also disappeared. But as the days wore on, he started to see the worry that etched into their faces, how Triss glanced at her phone every few seconds, waiting for a message that didn't come.

"I know that," she responded tersely. "But she's never been gone this long before, either. If it were four or five days, I wouldn't be worried. It's been ten."

She drummed her fingers on the table, nails clicking against its surface. The sound was visibly grating on Regis—Geralt could see how tense he was. "If you're that worried, then by all means take it up with her yourself."

"You don't think I've tried? She doesn't pick up the phone, she won't respond to messages. And my key to her study has mysteriously stopped working."

Geralt couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Triss this agitated, if there ever had been one. She'd spent a summer at Kaer Morhen once to help with Ciri, right before she went into her final year at Aretuza, and, with one or two exceptions, had remained almost unnervingly calm despite everything that had been going on at the time. (It was easy enough for him to see, now, where she'd picked that up from.) But now, she was fidgeting; now she didn't want to look anyone directly in the eye. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but it seemed to him that anything that made Triss act like that was cause for concern.

"Did it ever occur to you," Regis said shortly, "that you trying incessantly to care for her is the reason she's ignoring you?"

Triss didn't respond right away, and the table fell silent. Geralt and Dandelion eyed each other nervously, neither wanting to be the one to run the knife through the tension that settled thick around them. Finally, she stood, slinging her bag over one shoulder, and Geralt let out a barely-audible sigh of relief. "Yeah," she said, giving Regis one last, long look before she turned and left. "Yeah, I did."

After she was gone, the rest of them packed in silence, all somehow sensing that the time for socializing had disappeared along with her. Dandelion was the first to slip out the door, which surprised Geralt—he normally loved to be where the conflict was. Geralt waited until Regis had finished meticulously gathering his papers before he said "You mind telling me what that was about?"

"Ah." Regis signed as he held the door open, letting Geralt pass through ahead of him. "Yennefer has an…unfortunate habit of getting into fights and taking entirely too long to cool down form them. Ten days ago she had an argument with Val, the morning he left—quite a nasty one, to hear her tell it. She locked herself in her study and has yet to come out."

Geralt raised an eyebrow. Based on what he knew of her, that seemed somewhat out of character—though considering how he'd felt after talking to Val, he could understand her desire to let off steam. "Why bother, though? If he's already gone, not much point in trying to avoid him."

"I fear it's not him she's avoiding, but us." He was doing his utmost to sound light and casual, but Geralt could hear the worry sneaking in at the edges of his words. "This isn't an uncommon thing for her to do. They've been fighting for years, far longer than they've been happy. There have been times she's disappeared for a week after one of their more intense fights. But Triss is right. Ten days is unusual, to say the least. Especially here."

"Why does location matter?"

"Have you ever been to Aedd Gynvael?" Geralt didn't see what that had to do with anything, but he shook his head. "It's an isolated city—large, yes, but isolated. And she's isolated there when she stays with him. It's much easier to avoid people when they can't physically knock on her door."

"Seems kinda dangerous to just assume nothing'll happen to her, if she's really that upset." He remembered the way she'd seemed to collapse inward on herself when they returned from the mountains. He hadn't wanted to leave her then, and he didn't now, despite not having seen her for over two weeks.

"Not as much as you'd think. I'd be able to tell if something was seriously wrong." He ignored the questioning look Geralt threw his way and continued. "Besides, it would be pointless to try and see her. The place is so heavily warded that none of us could get in—except…"

He trailed off, but Geralt knew that expression all too well, the one he wore when he got a particularly exciting idea. "Except what?" he prompted after they'd walked several minutes in silence. "What are you hiding?"

"Except perhaps you." He dug around in the pocket of the coat he'd begun wearing as the air grew colder, even though, in truth, he didn't need it), finally pulling out a small silver key, which he handed to Geralt. Even though there was nothing suspicious about it, he still took it hesitantly. Attached to the key was a black tag which read YRV. "She's got no reason to ward against you. Geralt, I—I've been trying not to resort to this. I know she doesn't want anyone checking up on her. But considering the…nature of the fight, someone should. And she's not likely to react too negatively towards you."

"…alright." Geralt turned the key over in his hands, as if it would give him the answers he needed. "Say all that's true—and I've got some doubts about it. What's my motivation, then? Why would I want to go see her if she's in as foul a mood as you claim?"

"Because you care about her," Regis said simply. "Whether you want to admit it or not."

When Geralt didn't respond, Regis sighed again and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Look. Take the key. If you decide not to go, you can return it to me tomorrow, no harm done. But do at least think about it." Geralt nodded. He could see very clearly in his mind's eye the look on her face when Ciri told her what happened at Aretuza. He tried, perhaps far too hard, to push the image away.

"I'll think about it," he conceded. Regis, apparently satisfied, pulled his hand back and started to walk again. As they made their way to campus, he felt compelled to add "But that's all I can promise."

~oOo~

True to his word, Geralt thought about it. He thought about it for a very long time, though he tried his best not to, in nearly every way he knew how. He planned his lessons through the end of the semester. He painstakingly cleaned his swords. He'd even briefly considered seeing if Dandelion wanted to go out, but immediately thought better of that. Before he knew it, it was nine o'clock and he'd been staring at the key for the better part of twenty minutes. He could always see if Keira was home—she'd never say no to spending the night with him. But when he thought about how he actually wanted to spend those hours, another face was in the forefront of his mind.

Yennefer had an office on the top floor of the alchemy building that, when he unlocked the door, turned out to be at least twice the size of his, and very neatly arranged. The heavy wooden desk that sat in the middle of the room was clean, the books on the shelves clearly organized. In the back left corner was another door, which he assumed led to her private study. Theoretically, the key he held would open this one as well, and it fit snugly in the polished lock. Swallowing any lingering doubts, he opened it and stepped inside.

He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, but what he was met with was another spacious room that seemed half study, half laboratory, the two sections divided by a black curtain that was pulled partially open. The whole room was lined with bookshelves—on the side he stood on, they were weighed down by an impressive collection of grimoires, as well as hardbound notebooks whose spines were labeled with runes written in a cramped hand. Cluttering the shelves on the other side was an array of things suspended in jars, which he decided not to look at for too long. There was a large armchair and ottoman on the study side, covered with blankets. Clearly, she'd been sleeping there. Also on the chair was a very familiar-looking piece of fabric, and he was about to move towards it when the sound of something shattering came from behind the curtain, along with a volley of cursing that would put even Lambert to shame. He ducked around the curtain without pause and she was there, standing over a scorch mark on one of the tables that was still smoking slightly. Her brow furrowed when she saw him.

"I—how did you—?" She paused, shook her head. "Regis. He gave you his key, didn't he? Well, no matter. You can tell him I'm fine. Though I'm beginning to suspect someone's working with dimeritium in one of the downstairs labs." She turned back to the table and gripped its edges tightly, trying to disguise the shaking of her hands. "It would explain a lot."

"Like what?"

"Like why I've been sleeping so terribly, for instance. And why this is the fifth crystal today to explode on me." She gestured towards the mark. There was a ring of nearly-healed bruises around her upper arm that looked disturbingly like fingerprints. No one else would have been able to see them, but once he noticed it was difficult to tear his eyes away. He surreptitiously clenched his hand into a fist at his side in an attempt to relieve the sudden fury it brought forth.

"What it doesn't explain," she continued, eyes narrowing, "is why you're here."

"Thought you'd already figured that one out." He had a feeling she knew what he was looking at. To distract them both, he fished the key out of his pocket and held it up. Yennefer came forward and took it from him, slipping her forefinger through the ring and gripping it tightly.

"That's how," she said. Instead of returning to where she'd been standing, she leaned up against the closest table. His proximity to her, the way she'd tied her hair out of her face, meant he could tell how deep the circles under her eyes ran, how when she swallowed she did so thickly, as if she was in pain. "Not why."

"Yennefer, when was the last time you ate?"

Confusion flashed in her eyes, but she kept it there, not letting it seep into her expression. "You're dodging the question, Geralt of Rivia."

"So are you."

"I asked first."

He raised an eyebrow, but stayed quiet. He was sure she could sense the worry rolling off of him in waves, that it was putting her off. Eventually she huffed in annoyance and rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I can sustain myself if need be."

"It does matter, and that's not an answer."

She sighed and turned away from him, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. "So that's why you're here? To argue about my eating habits?"

"Everyone's worried about you." I'm worried about you, he thought, and though he didn't say it aloud, he also didn't try and fool himself into thinking she hadn't heard him. "You could at least let me get you something to eat. I can tell the others I couldn't get in, if you want to be left alone."

"For the last time, I'm perfectly fine."

"Then why are your hands still shaking?" He saw her open her mouth as if to answer, but he didn't give her then chance. "Yennefer, we both know I could drag you out of this room if I wanted to, and you're in no condition to put up a fight. I don't want to, because we're both better than that. But I won't let you stay in here and work yourself to death, so if you won't come with me willingly, I'm afraid I've no other option."

Her shoulders tensed, a barely perceptible movement, and he immediately regretted having been so harsh. Still, even though he knew the best course of action would be to back down, apologize and leave, he was rooted there—by a resistance to failure, perhaps, or something else, something he shouldn't acknowledge.

She sighed and pushed herself up, not looking over at him as she answered. "Fine. But give me a few minutes, at least. I shan't leave looking like this."

~oOo~

A few minutes turned out to be closer to twenty, as she retreated to the study side of the room and threatened him with any number of unpleasant things should he try and open the curtain. He spent the time sitting at one of the tables and trying very hard not to look at the things on the shelves. When she finally pulled back the curtain and motioned for him to leave the room ahead of her, she was wearing different clothes and she'd brushed her hair out. The circles under her eyes seemed far less prominent, and it was hard to tell, but he thought even the prospect of leaving the place seemed to have lifted her mood a bit.

"You know all witchers have x-ray vision, right?" he said as she locked the office door behind her and pocketed the key.

Yennefer scoffed. "Please. You should be so lucky." When he turned he was startled by the coolness of her hand on his face, fingertips pressed near his cheekbones. "There is something about your eyes, though," she said quietly, looking at him in a manner that should've made him incredibly uncomfortable, but didn't. "Your pupils—do they automatically adapt to light or can you narrow and dilate them according to your will?"

"I didn't come here so we could discuss my eyes," he said calmly. He had, he reminded himself, to be patient with her. Based on the way Regis had spoken about it earlier, simply convincing her to leave was an accomplishment unto itself. He didn't want to push her too far.

The corner of her lips twitched upwards as she dropped her hand and started towards the side staircase. "Of course. Forgive me my professional curiosity. The mutations are…of particular interest to me."

"Because of Ciri?" He kept a close eye on her as they descended several flights of stairs, ready to catch her if she fell, though his carefulness proved unnecessary.

"No. Because of your extraordinary healing abilities."

He wanted to ask more, but the tone of her voice told him he was unlikely to get any answers. Instead they left the campus and headed in the general direction of the Alchemist in a silence that was surprisingly comfortable to both of them. The place was smoky and crowded when they entered, but rather than try to brave the throng of people, Yennefer made eye contact with the bartender before nodding in the direction of a staircase in the corner, which she then led Geralt towards.

"They know me well here," she explained as they took a seat in a booth on the upper floor, which was almost completely empty. "Through Ciri. She used to frequent the place before…well."

He nodded. He knew what she meant—Ciri herself had told him. A red-haired waitress came by, and when Yennefer only asked for a water and a salad, Geralt frowned at her.

"Don't look at me like that," she said. "Maybe it's not much for a witcher, but…it's been a few days. And I believe you're already aware that I have an adverse reaction to most forms of higher magic being used on me. Including what I've been using on myself as of late."

"Seems kinda dangerous."

"It is if you don't know your limits. Luckily, I know mine." She was quiet for a moment, tugging her sleeves down over her wrists. "I would've come out soon, anyway. If you hadn't…"

She was looking at him very strangely, her head tilted slightly to the side. He didn't dare try to prompt her on; something told him she wouldn't have any of it. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is…thank you."

"Don't mention it." He cleared his throat awkwardly as their drinks arrived, glad to have an excuse not to talk for a moment. "You would've done the same for me."

"I'm touched by your certainty." Yennefer smiled tightly. It looked as though she wanted to say more, but her phone, which she'd set to the side of the table, lit up with an incoming call, and they both looked over at it. He recognized Val's face on the screen, and felt a tightening in his gut when he did. Apparently Yennefer wasn't very excited about it either—she groaned softly and pressed her fingers to her temple.

"This is the tenth time he's called me in the past six hours," she said at Geralt's questioning look. "He only does this when he thinks I'm mad at him. And it's ridiculous—as if I haven't already made it clear enough that I want space. I've told him that several times, but he refuses to listen. He's so stubborn; he gets it in his head hat he'll do something and he won't let it go—"

"Wait. Are you mad at him?"

"Yes, but that's not the point." She took a long drink of her water and glared at her phone when the notification for a new voicemail came up.

"I don't understand how that could be anything but the point."

They were interrupted again, briefly, by the arrival of their food, and Geralt ate ravenously while Yennefer only picked at what was in front of her, visibly upset—he could see it in the set of her lips. After a few minutes she set down the fork she'd been holding but not using and looked up at him.

"Do you remember," she said, "what I asked you for that day in the mountains? What I wanted?"

He didn't even have to think about it to remember, but he still waited a moment to answer. "The…procedure," he replied, and she nodded.

"I said before that going ahead with it would almost certainly mean financial ruin for me, but my circumstances have recently changed. So I've arranged to have it done. But it's…presented a few problems, to put it mildly."

"Such as?"

She pushed her plate a few inches away. Geralt thought he saw a thin white line of skin where she'd pulled her sleeve back up, but she moved her hand back too quickly for him to be sure. "The only specialist I know of who can perform the surgery and is willing to is in Novigrad. It's not a problem in and of itself, I know; Novigrad isn't terribly far from here—but I can't go alone. Portaling afterwards would pose too great a risk, as would trying to drive myself, considering I don't know how this will affect me. And Val has flat-out refused to go with me."

Geralt couldn't say he was surprised—based on the few interactions he'd had with the man, he'd gotten the impression that he didn't care much for Yennefer as a person, just the idea of her. Still… "I thought being engaged meant you automatically agreed to those kinds of things."

"You'd think." She laughed a little, but it was bitter, and he saw how she drew her jacket tighter around herself. "But Val's never been like that. He's not terribly affectionate in the first place, and this—this he doesn't understand at all. He thinks it's stupid and pointless, and I shouldn't be wasting my time trying to fix something every other sorceress learns to accept."

Geralt ran a finger through the ring of condensation that had formed around his glass. "I take it you're not going to tell me what that something is."

"I think I did mention before that it's rather personal." She shifted, pulling one of her legs up underneath her. He found it incredibly interesting, how she never quite managed to sit still. "Besides, you're only supposed to be worried about getting some food into me."

"Which I still am," he pointed out, looking down briefly at her barely-touched plate. She raised her eyes to the ceiling and picked her fork back up, though he thought he saw her smile. She took very slow, small bites, and he realized too late that he was probably making her uncomfortable by watching her so closely. "Can't someone else just take you, then?"

"It's not quite that simple—gods, I wish it was." Even though he was now staring at a point just above her left shoulder instead of directly at her, he could see her press her lips together and let them pull apart slowly. "I don't even need to ask Philippa or Triss to know that they'd both refuse. There are…certain things tied up in this that neither of them want to acknowledge. Triss especially likes to worry about it. And I don't blame her." She eyed her phone as if the mere mention of her would bring about another message. "She's called nearly more times than Val has."

"So I've heard. She made her concern obvious at lunch earlier." One of Yennefer's shoulders, he noticed, was slightly higher than the other. For some reason, it struck him as incredibly endearing. "What about Regis? I don't know the whole story, but it seems like he'd be willing."

She grimaced. "He would, which is exactly why I won't ask him. He's helped me so much already, I'd rather not ask for anything further. Not to mention he worries as much as the rest of them, though he's a bit less overbearing about it." He wondered, then, if she truly had any other options, apart from potentially endangering herself by going alone. She didn't seem to have many close friends, and he would guess that an even smaller number than that knew of her situation, whatever it was.

"Ciri would take me," she said quietly. He didn't know that he'd ever seen anyone look so defeated, though her expression had barely changed. "She would, without question. But I can't risk bringing her into Novigrad. I won't."

"I could do it."

He wasn't sure what had possessed the words to come out of his mouth, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know, either. Yennefer's brow furrowed, her lips parted just a hair, and she set her fork back down slowly.

"You told me before," she said, "that you weren't going to help me without knowing exactly why I wanted your help. Yet now you expect me to believe you've had a sudden change of heart?"

He couldn't think of a reply. He shrugged.

For several minutes she didn't say anything. The waitress came by and Yennefer paid for both of them, glaring at him when he feebly tried to protest. He put his coat back on and followed her out in silence. It seems as though she wasn't going to say anything at all, and they would end up right back where they started. He was of a mind to apologize, entreat her to forget that he'd said anything, when she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, less than a block away from the apartments. A few paces ahead, he turned back to her.

"Why?" she said. Her gaze was fixed not on his eyes but on the scar that ran across his face, in much the same way he'd been trying to avoid her stare earlier. She'd shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and stood almost defensively. "What's in it for you?"

"Absolutely nothing." It was easy to tell the truth about that, at least—he had a feeling that helping her would only leave him with more problems. Still, now that the thought had been voiced, he was already beginning to warm up to it.

"Then why offer?"

"I…" It was a reasonable question, and he had no good answer for it. She must have known—her eyes narrowed, but there was something akin to amusement in them. "I don't know," he finished lamely.

He'd had the obvious excuse right in his grasp. Ciri cared deeply for Yennefer, so he would do his utmost to keep her safe, for Ciri's sake. He knew she would likely say the same thing if he asked. It was easy. It was simple. But somewhere in the Kestrel Mountains, things between them had stopped being simple—or perhaps, he acknowledged reluctantly, they never were.

Yennefer exhaled very slowly and deliberately. "All right, Geralt of Rivia," she said. There was less apprehension in her tone after that, though her posture as she caught up to him was still guarded. "I accept your suspicious offer. I expect we'll be gone a few days, though, so you'll have to find someone to cover for you in the meantime. Since you so gracefully volunteered for this, I'm assuming that won't be a problem."

He shook his head. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but it would be easy enough to get Lambert or Eskel to step in, especially if he explained where he'd be. They could draw their own (incorrect) conclusions from there.

"Good." She sounded tired, and his own exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. "Well…I suppose I'll see you soon, then. I'll get in touch about the details." She hesitated for a moment, as if unsure of how to say goodbye, then abruptly turned and headed towards her apartment. He watched until she was safely inside before trudging back to his own. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for a day—but when he stepped inside Regis was there, sitting on the couch like he'd been waiting a long time.

"I'd like to guess," he said in a tone that was far too cheerful for how Geralt felt, "that things went well."

Geralt sat down heavily and put his head in his hands, letting out a low groan. "Actually, I don't know what the hell I just got myself into."

i've been saying for a while i have something planned for next week, and as of right now i still do. i can't guarantee anything at this point, though - but no matter what happens with that, there will still be a normal update a week from today; i'm just hoping i can work in some other things around that

(also advance thanks to the people who said they'd pre-read for me, and i sincerely hope you will continue to put up with my bullshit after you see what it is lol)