A/N: Updated chapter 01/16/23

Daylight faded and night took over. She gazed out the window trying to pick out the stars, but the city lights drowned them out, leaving only the brightest visible. This night sky was a sad sight compared to what she knew to be out there. Part of her expected to see a spectre cavalcade across the sky, although such things hadn't been seen in this world for centuries.

She threw a glance across her shoulder, sighed and drew the curtains close before returning to the unconscious man's side. Delicately, she inspected his wounds as much as she could without moving or undressing him. All the bones in one hand were shattered, he had multiple broken ribs, every inch of exposed skin, including his face, was covered in cuts and bruises and he had a very deep gash on his calf. She would have to prioritize them by severity once he woke, but for now, nothing could be done. Her spell had put him in a light time freeze that kept him from bleeding out while his mind and body reconnected, so all she could do was wait.

As she waited for any signs of life, she sifted through her memories of the last time she had seen Ciri and her parents. Back then she didn't even know how to heal without giving away parts of herself. It had been twenty years, but her regrets were as fresh as ever. She had chosen herself over them.

A faint sound drew her out of her melancholy. It was a barely audible hum, yet it was something different from the regular breathing she was accustomed to. He was returning to the land of the living and her spell was fading in response. Finally, she could start healing the physical damage done to him.

As his body thawed from the spell, his wounds began to bleed much faster than she anticipated. Alongside his blood, energy was pouring out of him, so she placed her hands on his chest to return some of his soul and replenish him. His heartbeat grew stronger under her palms until he awoke, jumping with a roar of pain. The unfortunate result was a hard elbow to her face that sent her flying back, almost knocking her out.

"Ciri!" she mumbled, half-dazed from the blow. The hit rang through her skull, pain travelling through her sinuses and pooling up in between her eyes. To her astonishment, he managed to sit up.

"Where..." he began, looking around confused, searching for anything familiar. Perhaps he hoped to see Ciri, but instead, his eyes landed on her. A fleeting look of guilt passed across his face before he reached for the dagger in his boot.

"I'm a healer. Ciri brought you here," was all she could think of saying to calm him down. Thankfully it worked.

"Your nose... sorry... I thought you were with the Hunt. It felt like getting stabbed through the chest," he grunted clutching his broken hand.

Blood streamed down her face, into her mouth and onto her neck and dress. She felt her broken nose.

"That looks bad," he said, once again eyeing her with a guilty look.

"Feels worse," she said in a nasal voice, her eyes watering from the pain.

"Sorry."

"Don't... worry... about it. I can fix it," she said as she grabbed the bridge of her nose between two fingers, whispered a spell and, with a snap, put her face back together.

"If you'll let me, I'll tend to your wounds as well."

She tried to give him a reassuring smile but realized it looked grotesque with the blood and tears still wet on her face. She blinked back the remaining tears and tried to wipe some of the blood, but succeeded only in smearing it further. Still, he relaxed as she approached. He tried to lean back, but snapped back up, grabbing his side, groaning.

"Those ribs need to be looked at."

"I'll be fine. Witchers heal fast."

"Are you always this obstinate?" she asked when he swatted her hands away. "Your body had shut down all functions and a spell is the only reason you haven't bled out. That spell is fading, your senses are slowly coming back and that means the pain will only get worse if I don't tend to you."

"Fine, do what you must," he said.

"It's better if I clean your wounds first. I need to get you into the bathroom, but you're too heavy for me to lift on my own. I need you to do your best to help me and try to stand up."

He nodded in acknowledgement, so she put one hand around him and grabbed under his arm. With one arm around her neck, leaning on her and the uninjured leg he succeeded in standing up. She did her best to support his tall, well-built frame, but grunted under his weight, thanking the stars he didn't have armour on.

"It's right through there." She motioned ahead to a closed door.

One step at a time and many muttered curses later, they made their way first to the bathroom door, then inside the bathroom to the freestanding tub.

She kept a chair next to the tub for books and magazines she read while taking a long bath at the end of stressful days. They all went flying as she carelessly kicked everything off the chair and gestured for him to sit down. With his weight off her, she breathed again with ease.

"It'll take a little while for this to fill up," she said as she turned on the faucet and checked the temperature. After dropping some soap in the water, she turned back to him. "Can you remove your shirt?"

He lifted his injured hand. His bloodied fingers were answer enough.

She took his hand gingerly, but before she could do anything, he wobbled and almost fell off the chair. He clutched the edge of the tub to catch himself, but he could barely keep his eyes open.

"I have to pour some energy into you, just like before. It might hurt, but it's the only way to keep you conscious. Please try not to punch me again."

"I won't. Do what you have to," he whispered.

Although it was only her hand resting on his chest if he had his eyes closed he'd swear someone was trying to thrust a red-hot iron through him. He fought to stifle the scream building in his throat. She removed her hand and the pain went with it. Surprisingly, he felt invigorated.

"Better?"

"Is all your healing this painful?"

"It'll get better once I attune the energy to you. You're not responding to the type of energy I expected, so it might take a few tries since I'm going on guesses."

"Those felt like very wrong guesses," he said, unable to bite back his resentment. He might have said more, but when she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes, the sorrowful look she had rendered him silent. And, after all, the blood on her face was his doing, so he could take a little bit of pain in return.

"Sorry, don't mean to be ungrateful."

"Don't apologize, if I were in this much pain, I'd be crabby too." To his surprise, she even smiled at him as she gently took his broken hand, careful not to hurt him. She sighed. "I won't lie..."

"Let me guess... It's going to hurt."

She looked into his eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Maybe I can make it hurt less. Put your hand in the water, the warmth will take away some of the pain. Hopefully, you'll only feel pressure and some minor pain."

He lowered his hand into the foamy water and her fingers gingerly glided over his skin as she cupped his hand and applied pressure. Her breathing stopped for a moment and her heart beat faster. When his bones snapped and popped back into place, her eyes watered and warmth travelled over his skin as pieces of bones were welded together. She exhaled hard and withdrew her hands.

"Why did you lie? It wasn't the warm water taking away the pain, it was you."

She wiped her forehead and met his eyes with a look of surprise.

"I... the water helped some. I didn't want to torture you further. Putting bones back together is one of the most painful things one can experience, and I still have to heal more injuries. The leg will hurt too," she paused.

He flexed his fingers and made a fist. His hand was good as new.

"You should have full control over your hand now. Can you undress and get in the bath while I go see if there's anything in my closet that will fit you?"

"Mhm," he grunted.

"If you don't feel well or need anything, call me... By the way, my name is Criss." She extended a hand, which he gently shook.

"Geralt."

She was already out of the room as he was unlacing his trousers. He folded his clothes and lowered himself into the water but couldn't help a hiss as the soap seeped into all the little cuts and stung like a thousand bees.

"Are you alright?" she asked, poking her head through the door.

"Fine," he answered, turning to see her quickly train her eyes on the ground with a blush.

"I'll give you a moment to settle in. Just... try not to fall asleep," she said as she disappeared once more.

The water felt divine once the sting wore off. Even the flowery smell didn't bother him. He rested his head on the edge and let his eyelids fall shut. Next thing he knew, an iron was once again stabbing him through his chest and he woke to her looking worried into his eyes.

"I just closed my eyes for a moment," he said, pulling away from her hands.

"A moment? It's been considerably more." She shook her head. "Nevermind. Let's work on getting you better." She handed him a bottle. "You can use this on your hair if you like. My brother left it here the last time he visited. I couldn't find any clothes for you, aside from a bathrobe." She pointed to a robe hanging on a wall hook. "We'll deal with getting clothes and toiletries of your own tomorrow."

He squeezed some liquid from the bottle into his palm and lathered his hair as she sat on the floor at the foot of the tub.

"Don't think you need to bother with those. If you heal me tonight, I'll be out of your hair tomorrow."

"I wish it was as easy as that." She gave a heavy sigh. "This would have been so much easier if Ciri and Yennefer had stayed to help me explain. Unfortunately, with the Hunt still after her, Ciri had to leave. She did ask me to tell you she was sorry..."

"She needn't be..."

"And that she'd care for Vesemir's funeral."

He fell silent and clenched his jaw. He had hoped that part was just a bad dream, but Vesemir was really dead.

"I take it he was important to you. A friend?"

"Like a father," he replied resuming scrubbing himself clean.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He died a hero."

She sat silent for a minute, respectful of his loss, but she needed to take care of those who were still alive.

"Can you lift your injured leg and rest it on the edge?"

He did as told, but with a little too much force, splashing half the tub onto her, soaking her from top to bottom.

"Sorry. I seem to have completely ruined your evening... and your dress. You looked like you were going somewhere important."

"Important?" She smiled, looking down at the fabric that was sticking to her skin more than what would be considered decent. "Right now, the only place where I'd fit right in would be a wet T-shirt contest." She remembered the blood still on her cheeks and shook her head. "Except my face must look like a bloody nightmare."

"I'm glad you find it funny. Yen would've had my head for such an offence to her dress."

Her smile faded at his words and she moved her attention back to his leg.

Her hands moved gingerly along his calf, feeling the injury, making sure the wound was clean and there was no debris left before closing it. He leaned back and grabbed the edges of the bathtub, bracing for the incoming pain. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him and for all the losses he suffered, so she absorbed his pain once more. It was the least bit of comfort she could give him before telling him he was chained to her for the remainder of his stay.

Once the wound healed, he relaxed once more, but his shrewd eyes pinned her in place.

"Are you a masochist? Why do you keep doing that to yourself for a stranger?"

"You're not exactly a stranger," she said as she got up and walked to the sink. "Mmm, I look a mess... lovely."

She washed off the dried blood and ruined makeup before returning to his side. Part of her wanted to bid for more time, not ready to explain to him why she felt guilty enough to punish herself with his pain. Perhaps if she healed him first, he might be more forgiving.

"Since I fixed my face, it's only fitting I fix yours. You don't look like a ray of sunshine with all those cuts and bruises."

Her fingers traced each cut on his face and, as she moved over them, they closed, leaving behind no scars. Under all the bruises she discovered his face had changed little since she last saw him. He had the same sharp yet beautiful features she remembered from long ago, and he hadn't aged a bit. His striking white hair still didn't match his much younger-looking face. While she healed him, his piercing eyes never left her, studying her intently. Could he remember something? Yet, it should have been impossible.