Geralt came to his senses on the floor, alone, in a concrete room with no windows and a steel door. Over the years, he had seen enough of these rooms to know what they were. Prison cells. Brightly lit, clean - that part was different - with only a steel bed welded to the floor, a toilet and a sink on a side of the room. He sat up and felt the ugly bump on the back of his head. Painful, but nothing to worry about; it would be gone in a matter of hours. This is what you get for meddling, uninvited, he thought. Although it was at her behest. Fuck! Criss… In a flash, he remembered the red dots flickering over the emerald green of her dress, her pale skin, the horror in her eyes. She must be here too. He got up off the floor and noticed his jacket, bowtie, cufflinks, shoes and belt were missing. Did they really think he would strangle himself with his shoelaces? Idiotic precautions made for men with no spine. He skimmed over the room, sizing the strength of the steel door. Would it budge under his Aard? Then he noticed the pale glow of the red light above the door. A camera. Someone was watching him. Even if he broke down the door, it wouldn't do much good if a loaded gun met him on the other side. No, he couldn't break out, he'd just have to wait to see whose prisoner he was this time. Sitting down on the steel bed, he leaned with his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Maybe half an hour had passed when he heard faint footsteps that grew louder as they approached. The light coming from under the door flickered. Next, there was a loud clanging sound, and the door swung open.

In the doorway stood a tall middle-aged man with grey hair and glasses, looking official in his black suit, holding a folder. Behind him followed two men carrying weapons and the woman he saved in the park. No longer wearing her combat gear, she was bandaged up and clearly still in pain, but alive.

"Let's get straight to the point. Who are you?" the man asked without preamble.

Geralt said nothing and kept his eyes on the weapons the men carried. He never used a gun himself, but was familiar with their use through the magic of cinematography. Familiar enough to know he had no chance of outmanoeuvring the men or dodging their bullets. Forcing his way out wasn't a possibility.

Unimpressed by his silence, the man continued the interrogation with the same simple, yet loaded, question.

"Our facial recognition software says you don't exist in our database. So who are you?"

Who was he? Not a witcher - that had no meaning here. So what then? With no idea of what to say to help himself out of that cell, he just waited for the man to continue, hoping some helpful piece of information would slip out.

The man was persistent. "You don't exist... But your little friend in the green dress... She exists and I'm told she called you Geralt."

The thought of her in a similar cell was enough to soften him. He might rot there, but maybe he could give them enough to at least get her out.

"Yes, my name is Geralt," he told the man.

The man opened the folder and appeared to read something. "You keep interesting company for a man who doesn't exist. Living with a well-respected architect who used to practise until 10 years ago, then suddenly gave it up to become a teacher... has a loving family... no husband, no pets... not a lot of friends... Who is she to you?"

"No one. We just met," he lied without a second thought.

"You, Geralt, are a terrible liar!" He snorted. "We might not know who you are, but we know exactly when you appeared here and what you've been doing since then. Our street surveillance cameras took these."

He pulled out a paper from the folder and threw it on the floor in front of him. It was a photo of him and Criss and, judging by their attire, it was taken on his first trip to the supermarket.

"Three weeks ago," the man continued, "you were first seen with her. And ever since... we keep seeing you with her." He threw him another photo. The first time they walked in the park, his arm around her, holding her against his side. "And you seem to be more than friendly." More pictures followed, them going to the university, coming back from the club the first night they were together, them soaking wet, kissing under the glass canopy after their first date. He had to stop looking at the pictures; he was reliving it all, and it made the situation they were in hurt even more.

"She's someone to keep my bed warm." His answer was swift and harsh, but if she was only loosely connected to him, then perhaps they would be more inclined to let her go.

The man let out a burst of gruff laughter.

"Hear that? She's a bed warmer!" The men smirked while the woman sketched no emotion.

"And your point is?" He was determined to stick to his ruse. "What does it matter, anyway? She has nothing to do with anything. I killed a vampire tonight, and that's why we're here."

"We're here to determine what kind of man you are. And so far, you're a liar and I don't like liars." He glanced at the bandaged woman, then back at him. "Lisa tells me you somehow produced fire to burn the vampire. Our search of you and your belongings didn't reveal any pyrotechnic device."

"And?"

"And if you wish to leave the confines of these four walls, you should start answering honestly when asked a question. We would take it as a sign of good faith if you were to hand over whatever device you used."

"I don't have it." What else could he say? He couldn't very well tell him he used magic.

"Perhaps the woman has it," Lisa interjected. "She was the one who produced the sword. I don't know where she pulled it from, but I saw her slide it to him."

At that moment, Geralt deeply regretted not having let the vampire simply kill her.

"Tell them to bring the woman here." He spoke over his shoulder to one of the men. Geralt wasn't sure if this was going just bad or horrible.

"It would be easier if you just told me what I want to know. Lisa said you were exceptionally fast when fighting the vampire. Seems you saved her life. Someone like you might prove himself very useful, provided I decide I like you. So far you're not making a good impression, Geralt. As I said, I don't like liars." The door opened again and two men were dragging a very feisty Criss into the room. She was trying to fight their grip as best she could, but it was clear to everyone that she had no chance. They released her arms, but stopped her when she tried to get closer to Geralt. He made no motion towards her. His eyes scanned her, cataloguing her injuries: she had a few faint red marks over her arms where they had grabbed her and her hands were still red with Lisa's dried blood. Other than that, she appeared to be in good health.

"So here we have... What did you call her? The bed warmer?" Criss's face went red, and he didn't know if it was from anger or embarrassment. Her reaction didn't escape the man. "By the looks of her, she's not too happy with that title."

"We have rights, we have done nothing wrong..." she began angrily.

"Yes, yes, sure, sure... rights! Of course you do!" He gave a quick laugh. "We're just asking questions… for now." He continued sharply. "Where did you get the sword?" She didn't answer. "Do you have any pyrotechnic device on you?" Still no answer. "If you don't hand it over willingly, we'll just have to search you."

"I don't have anything." She looked at him dead in the eyes.

"Geralt says the same thing. And we've already searched him... So that only leaves you... I don't think you'd like us to rip that beautiful dress apart. It would be so much easier if you just handed over whatever you used."

"It's just a dress. Search it all you want, you won't find anything." She looked at him defiantly and gave Geralt a quick glance to assure him she was fine.

He nodded to one of the men with guns and he patted her down while the two who brought her grabbed her arms. The man crumpled the fabric in his hands, trying to feel for anything hidden inside the material, and when he couldn't find anything on the surface, he decided to search underneath it. When he put his hands under her dress, feeling her skin instead of the fabric, she kicked as hard as she could, aiming for his face, but he moved and her knee only hit his shoulder. He stood up and the back of his hand hit her face with force. The skin reddened immediately, but she didn't make a sound. Instead, she made to kick him again.

"Stop!" Geralt stood and stepped towards them, but their weapons were already pointed at him. He had to carefully consider his next move, and it felt like another choice between two evils. How far would they go to get him to talk? Would they stoop as low as to hurt her? And if he talked, what would they do with that information?

The seconds dragged on forever in his mind as he fought to reach a decision he could live with. All the while, the situation got worse in front of his eyes. Her struggling only made the men step on her feet to immobilize her while one of them pulled on the fabric until it ripped, baring her legs up to her hips and continued to feel under her skirts. Her face turned to stone as his hands went up along her thighs, and Geralt couldn't stand it any longer.

"To hell with it! There's no device!" His fingers formed Igni, and a burst of flames appeared in the palm of his hand. The sight froze them in place, and the grey-haired man smiled a wicked smile.

"Good, now we're getting somewhere. Pyrokinesis, I've heard of it, but I've never seen it for real." His eyes flickered from the flames to Geralt's eyes. "So who are you?"

"Geralt Rivia," he said, remembering the gym membership card. "I'm a monster hunter."

"Good. And who do you work for?"

"Whoever has a contract for a monster and is willing to pay my price."

"Are you affiliated with any country?"

Geralt shook his head. "I don't take sides, I don't do politics and I only take contracts for monsters. I'm no assassin."

"Where did you come from?"

"Irrelevant." The man squinted, unhappy with his answer. "A faraway place. The name won't mean anything to you."

"Try me."

"Fine. Kaer Morhen. Heard of it?"

The man pursed his lips and continued. "What is the purpose of your visit?"

"I'm recovering from an injury I've sustained. She has been kind enough to take me in." He nodded towards Criss.

"Why?" The man looked at Criss. It was a simple one-word question, but the way it was spoken carried much more meaning behind it.

"Because his daughter asked me to and I owe her."

He eyed her with a quirked eyebrow. "Strangely enough, you both appear to be telling the truth." He thought for a moment. "How did you arrive here? There's no record of you entering the country or the city."

"I was unconscious when I got here so I don't know how I arrived." Half-truths, dance on the edge, don't lie. Keep her safe.

"Who contracted you for the vampire you killed tonight?"

"No one. I'd say I was in the right place at the right time, but considering it landed me here, perhaps I was entirely in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You mean to say you simply recognized a vampire in a room full of people?" the man asked with raised eyebrows and Geralt nodded in approval.

"Impressive, if true. What do you know about vampires, Geralt?"

"What do you want to know?" He closed his palm and extinguished the flame.

"Everything you know."

"That might take a long time, but suit yourself." He launched into a long exposition regarding the kinds of vampires he knew, their abilities, preferences, weaknesses and any other characteristic he deemed important. He left out any part about magical counterattacks they were susceptible to. The grey-haired man nodded all the while he spoke.

"You seem to be very knowledgeable. The names you gave them are not the same we use, but the descriptions are dead on. Where did you learn all of this?"

"My father." For all intents and purposes, he considered this to be true. "He's dead," he added, to save himself from further questions.

"So it's passed down... this knowledge?"

"Yes, knowledge and training."

"Are there any others like you out here?"

"There are none here that I know of. Only me."

"Don't go back to lying to me."

"I'm not."

"Your friend said you have a daughter. You didn't train her? Where is she now?"

"Adoptive daughter, took her in because her parents died. She never completed her training and right now she is most certainly very far away from here. Where exactly? I have no idea. She moves from place to place, so she could be anywhere."

"I must admit that this is quite the conundrum. Despite my first impression of you, it seems you're quite capable of being truthful if given the right incentive. You're still hiding things, that much I'm sure of. I've no doubt I'll uncover what those things are in time."

A long moment of silence followed and Geralt sensed their fates were being decided.

"I have one last question for you." He paused for a moment. "Would you be willing to work for us? Your services are for hire after all, no?" He looked straight into Geralt's eyes.

"What would be in it for me?" he asked coldly, playing the role of the heartless gun for hire he claimed he was.

The man snorted, amused.

"Your life, for starters. Your friend's life and freedom. Or perhaps you don't care about such trivial things? Earlier it was the only thing that could get you talking."

Geralt shrugged. "I wouldn't want my bed to get cold, but that's not enough." He had to remember to apologize profusely to Criss - her face was red once again and her jaw clenched.

"Spoken like a true mercenary. And what would you consider to be a fair price for your services?"

"I want a complete identity that comes with an ID, a bank account, social security number and whatever else your country requires. I'll need a weekly retainer and then we can discuss numbers on a case-by-case basis. In exchange, I'll hunt vampires and whatever else haunts your cities. And I want her to be safe." He nodded towards Criss.

"That's easy enough to provide. You have yourself a deal! You'll begin right away."

"I'll begin as soon as you've met my demands."

"You're in no position to be making demands, but as a show of good faith, we'll do it your way. After all, we know all about her... and her family." Their eyes moved in tandem towards Criss.

"I have no intention of cheating you as long as you stick to the deal."

"You'll receive your paperwork tomorrow. Expect a courier. You're free to go now. Someone will bring you your things. Your sword will remain here. They'll escort you to a car that will take you home." Geralt nodded and grabbed Criss's arm, eager to get out of there as soon as possible. She pulled out of his grip and advanced towards the grey-haired man.

"Wait!" she called for him. "The woman in the blue dress..." The man turned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "There was another vampire and a woman in a blue dress, a redhead. They went into the garden. We were following them. Did you find them? Is she alive?" her voice was cracking by the end.

"We didn't find anyone else, but when we cleaned up the area, we found some blood splatter on a bench. We assumed it was from the fight, but if it wasn't... It's doubtful that the woman is still alive."

Her eyes dropped to the floor, and she lost all the fight in her. The men left, leaving them alone, and Geralt gently put his arm around her, guiding her to the sink to wash the dried blood from her hands.

"You can't walk around like this, it'll draw attention to you." She didn't reply or move in any way; it was as if she was absent from her body. Turning on the faucet, he took her hands in his and delicately washed the blood off them. He wanted to hug her, comfort her, tell her he was sorry, tell her how he felt. He couldn't. Not there. Not while the camera was still watching them. So he was forced to stand by and watch her retreat into dark thoughts. A few minutes passed before someone came and brought them their missing items.

The two men with weapons led them to a van with blacked-out windows. The drive seemed endless, although it probably took less than one hour. He couldn't tell where they were, but from the sounds he heard outside, they were still inside the city. All the while, Criss was staring into a fixed point; her eyes were empty, and he was getting more and more worried about her.

He had the distinct impression that they drove in circles for a while, but eventually, the car stopped, the door opened and they were in the underground parking of the apartment building. She got out first and went straight for the elevator. He followed her in silence until they were inside the apartment, not daring to say anything. Once inside, his hand reached out for her shoulder, but she shook him off and kept walking to the bedroom. He followed.

"Criss..." he began, but she turned and put her palm over his mouth. She looked pained.

"Don't! I don't need you to tell me told you so! I know it's my fault! I should have just listened to you... I made a mess of things and I have nothing to show for it! We saved no one! Now you've been found out and have to work for them to keep me safe... So please don't say anything! I hear my own conscience loud enough..."

She moved away from him and began undressing and angrily throwing the offending items against the floor.

"That's not..." he tried again, but she just stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Outside the windows, lightning flashed, followed by the crash of thunder and the furious splatter of rain. Inside the room, the familiar sound of the shower came from beyond the door, but between the sounds of running water, he heard sobs. Something had broken inside her, that dam that kept everything inside, under the surface, was crumbling and her emotions spilt out in waves. He had never seen her truly angry or upset until then, and all he wanted was to comfort her, put her back together, see her smile again. When he opened the bathroom door, the sobs stopped, and she breathed in deep to settle herself. He approached the shower and started undressing while she continued to bathe in silence without looking at him.

"You saved that woman, the hunter, Lisa." He waited for a reply from her, and when none came, he continued. "You stopped her bleeding, and she's alive because of you. You wanted to do the right thing and tried to help even if you didn't have to, but things rarely go according to plan. I should know, I've been in your shoes plenty of times. There's never a perfect choice, a perfect outcome, only compromise, decisions you learn to live with. Besides, you're always so quick to forgive everyone, I don't understand how you don't forgive yourself... Even if, in my opinion, there is nothing to forgive." She rested with her hands against the wall, her head hanging low, looking at the tiled floor and letting the water run down her head and back.

"Hmm, you're right, of course... Once again... I expect more of myself than I expect of others, which in the end just means I'm prideful... Dumb and prideful, wonderful combination..." she snorted and shook her head.

"You are kind, sweet, and caring..." He put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a small squeeze. "You're smart, genuine, selfless..." He drew her to him, pressed her back against his chest and lowered his head to kiss her cheek. Her eyes were still red from crying and she turned her head so he couldn't see her face.

"Stop it! Don't say things you don't mean! And stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?" His hand tilted her chin and turned her head towards him gently.

"Like... you like me... don't do that... Don't pretend."

"I'm not pretending. But it's true, I don't... like you... I love you."

He caressed her cheek tenderly, eyes skimming over her lips, the slight frown in her brow, her warm dark eyes, and she looked at him, speechless. Perhaps it was too much, maybe he was too intense, maybe he shouldn't have said it then, but he was done being a coward.

"I don't know or care if you feel the same. You should hate me or despise me after what I said tonight about you... warming my bed... I didn't mean that. I hoped they would leave you alone if they thought I didn't care about you. The truth is, I care very much. And this might be the worst possible time to tell you this, but I don't want to put it off any longer. I should have told you earlier, but I didn't know how. I..."

He never got to finish that sentence. Her lips sealed his, her hands coiled around his neck, her warm body pressed up to him. She didn't need to say it, and yet she did. She whispered it to him many more times that night as they made love and held each other close as the world grew small around them until there was no one but them.