Even if a long rest would have benefited her greatly, just the thought of being idle made her itch with unease and her curiosity had been piqued. She needed to know what the Director's request was. An odd sense of urgency hung in the air whenever she thought of it, so she decided not to put it off. She hoped it wouldn't be too demanding on her - provided she even agreed to whatever he wanted.

A car was waiting to pick them up just as they arrived from the university, giving them no time to have lunch before setting out to meet with the Director. For once, she regretted the rush. A warm meal would have gone a long way towards aiding her recovery. She kept up appearances so Geralt wouldn't worry, but she was still far from being back at a hundred per cent. As things stood, she was well enough to function in her day-to-day life, but performing any sustained magic would have been a strain. Blood was one of the hardest things to replace in her body, as it was inextricably linked to her essence, but she didn't want to explain that to anyone - not even to Geralt.

This time, they took no precautions. The car that picked them up was a normal town car with sheer glass windows through which they could see the city streets. It took them to a large inconspicuous office building downtown but, once inside, both she and Geralt recognized it as the one where they had been interrogated. His fingers intertwined with hers as a guard led them through the corridors to the Director's office. Only she was invited in while Geralt was asked to wait outside. He made to protest, but she squeezed his hand, her eyes on his. A glance was enough to let him know she would be fine, there was no reason to worry. Only a door stood between them and now they were guests, not prisoners.

The Director was polite, as she expected. He greeted her and invited her to sit down.

"Miss Thompson, I'm glad to see you recovered so quickly."

"Recovered?" She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "There was nothing to recover from."

She was sure she had hidden all traces of her weakness. Even with half her body covered in congealed blood, she stood proud and never once flinched or faltered while they debated the finer points of their agreement. Had she missed some detail that tipped him off that she wasn't as strong as she projected herself to be?

"I saw a few images from our surveillance… before Mr Rivia destroyed our equipment," he explained. "You seemed quite poorly."

She waved off his concern. "It was only momentary fatigue, nothing more," she said confidently. It wasn't quite true, but it was neither a lie.

"Really? It looked more… serious than that," his voice betrayed his disbelief.

"I'm not sure what you saw, but it wasn't," she replied sharply, her eyes narrowed. Where was he going with this? Was this some sort of blackmail attempt to make sure she wouldn't refuse his request?

"I saw…" He sighed and shook his head. "Nevermind. We're getting off on the wrong foot here. Whatever I saw, no one else will ever see. The images from that night, along with everything else, have been destroyed. No one will watch any of it. Ever. I am genuinely happy to see you are well. Let's leave it at that."

She nodded, more relaxed. The sense of urgency regarding his request had not left her and now she waited, expecting for him to tell her why he had asked for this meeting. Instead, he looked uneasy and there was a long moment of silence as if he wasn't sure he should speak, or how to begin, so she decided to help him along.

"You asked me here. I hope there are no issues regarding the agreement with the vampires? It's only been a few days."

"No, none so far," he replied, looking more at ease. "The truce stands. Everyone has complied so far and there are no problems. My request is personal." He hesitated, and she patiently waited for him to continue. "Mr Rivia told you we were planning on capturing a vampire?" he asked, and a note of tense awkwardness crept into his voice.

He had watched them for days, all their conversations and intimate moments on display for him. Of course, he knew the answer.

"There's no need to beat around the bush. I'm aware you were watching and listening to us, so you know very well he told me."

He cleared his throat. "Yes, well. This is a strange situation and I don't know how to approach it… I had a personal stake in the success of the endeavour, but the truce thwarted any plans we had of capture. But I hope you might help me instead."

"That depends on what goal you were hoping to achieve through the capture."

"We planned on conducting experiments. The ethereal nature of the vampire cells requires live subjects for any such endeavour."

"And the scope?" she asked, even if she could already guess the answer. The nature of man always pushed them to seek weapons under the guise of cures.

"Half medical, half military," he answered.

At least he was being honest with her and not serving her some pretty lies wrapped in a neat bow.

"I hope your personal goals are more enlightened than that, because any thought of resuming those experiments would be unwise if you wish this peace to last. I mediated the truce, but it's up to both of you to keep it. If you break it, a second chance at it is unlikely."

"I know that, but what I mean to ask you shouldn't impact the agreement. That is, if you decide to help."

"And what is it exactly that you wish to ask?"

He took a deep breath and launched into what looked like a rehearsed speech.

"You have exhibited healing abilities on multiple occasions, from what I could find at least since your abduction..."

She had to stop him.

"Please don't take the long way around. There's no need to drag this out. I assure you that whatever you want to ask, I'll decide on merit alone." Her words sounded a little sharp, so she softened her tone and continued. "There are no hard feelings on my part for everything that transpired, surveillance included, and the length of this conversation won't make me any more likely to accept or decline. Just tell me what you need from me."

He sighed and began again, in a warmer tone. "It's about my daughter. I had a vested interest in the experiments because I was hoping to find a cure for her. The vampires live unnaturally long lives and have regenerating abilities that could have been the key to finding a treatment for her cancer. It's caused by a genetic defect the doctors discovered soon after she was born. It's incurable, inoperable, and now it has become aggressive and won't respond to any treatment. She'll likely die in a matter of weeks. Hence why I hoped Mr Rivia would…" He looked down and shook his head. "Nevermind. Now I hope maybe you could help her."

Now she understood the urgency she felt. He caught her gaze and, despite his stern face, his eyes were pleading. It was the look of a man unused to asking for help, but also that of a father ready to grieve.

"I'll need to see her."

Without a moment's thought, he led her out of the room, and Geralt stood as soon as he saw them.

"Please, wait for me here. I'll be back as soon as possible. I have something I need to do," she said to him.

"I know. I heard and I'm coming with." She made to protest. "No arguments."

It was useless to argue with him when he took that tone, so they both left with the Director in his personal car with him driving.

"Do your employees know about your daughter's condition?" she asked as they weaved through the city traffic.

"One person knows. She's the only one I trust with such a personal matter. I keep my work and family separate."

"You used work resources to achieve your goal. I'd hardly call that separate," Geralt commented.

"Desperate situations call for desperate measures," he answered unapologetically.

"I wasn't judging you, but there's no use lying to yourself. Not telling others about your troubles isn't enough to make them disappear. They'll follow you everywhere you go, and impact everything you do whether or not you like it," Geralt continued.

It felt like he spoke from experience, and he likely did from what she knew about his search for Ciri. If anyone could understand how far a father would go for his child, it was him.

He drove them to one of the posh private hospitals near the centre of the city. They made their way to the room of one Vera Hampton, daughter of David Lewis Hampton, also known as the Director. One glance at the small child with exceedingly large eyes set in a gaunt face was all she needed.

"Please wait in the lobby while I work on her."

"Does that mean you'll help her?"

She looked over her shoulder and faintly nodded. He left the room without another word and took a reluctant Geralt with him. Now she found herself alone with the little girl, just as she wanted.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"I'll be ten in March."

Criss sighed. It was as she assumed. Her eyes swept the room, looking to see if there was any surveillance, but the only things being monitored were the child's life signs. She directed her attention to the girl once again. "Sometimes children remember," she thought.

"Did they tell you this was to be your life?" she asked, and bitterness seeped into her voice. "Did you agree to this?"

No answer.

She looked at the rest of the physiognomy of the girl. The disease and treatments had left their trademark signs, but nothing was irreversible. The child looked at her with innocent eyes that lacked understanding of the questions she was asking. She was like all others: she didn't remember, or know the answers to her questions. "Whatever was before was forgotten, just as it is for everyone."

She sat down on the bed next to the girl. The child couldn't answer her questions, but there was someone else who could. She thought of him, calling for his presence, and he appeared. He stood on the other side of the bed and looked at her with his wise and cold indigo eyes.

"Yes. She agreed. Does that make you feel better?" he gave answer to her earlier question.

"Not at all. And that's not why I asked." He tilted his head inquisitively, so she continued. "I was curious how far you planned, how much you knew. You set all this in motion a decade ago. You gave her father the drive and incentive he needed through her. Drove him to desperation, the kind only the parent of a sick child feels, then placed me and the witcher in his path. His need for a cure led to his interest in us. It made him malleable, willing to make concessions and forego questions."

"The Plan spans all. You know that."

She ignored him and continued her train of thought. "I've been wondering for a while why he was so eager to offer a job to someone he knew nothing about and who he shouldn't have so readily trusted. Now I know he just wanted someone - anyone - who could catch a vampire. You used a father's plight to involve us, and when you sent me to Reys, you knew what was about to happen. You counted on them showing up, on Geralt's energy being compatible with mine. It was all perfectly staged."

"Of course. We foresaw, it's what we do. And trustworthy as you are, you both played your parts to perfection."

"Yet it could have all gone so wrong. Last time I was offered power, I was all too eager to take it." She sighed with a heavy heart. "Being a healer is enough for me. I'm not fit to make grand decisions about who lives or dies. How can I hold anyone accountable when I'm so flawed myself?"

"Your past mistakes shouldn't freeze you in place. You've learnt your lesson… Perhaps even too thoroughly. It has made you timid, and it was time you got over it. You're not just a healer, you're a conduit for power. A good one. But you've been rooted in place for a while, it was time you chose a path and walked it."

"Not like I had a choice. It was either fight or die."

"Is that not always the choice? Between life and death?"

His question had been rhetorical, but she answered it anyway.

"It is, but this time it wasn't just my life at stake. It was Geralt's as well, and I'm not sure I would have fought for myself, but I fought for him."

"I know," he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Consider it a test you passed. Besides, something needed to pull you out of the depression you had sunk in for the past decade. I'm glad it was him."

"And I'm not glad at all. I bluffed, and it paid out, but it was a game of chance and manipulation. And now all I feel is dread that I won't be enough, that I won't be able to lift whatever burden you decide to place on me and I'll drag him down with me in the end."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It does you no favours," his voice was harsh, and his words felt like cold water splashed over her face. "You can and you will. Give yourself some credit for what you accomplished. It's not like it was a single binary choice. Sure, you could have forgone the fight and died, but there were other variations besides that one. If you had killed the vampire or let the humans do it, you would have lived, but the war between the two races would have continued. In the end, it was the sum of all your actions that led to an optimal result. It's a rare thing and you should feel emboldened by this knowledge, so I'll not indulge your wallowing in self-pity and insecurity."

"Knew I could count on you for a good kick in the pants," she said with a bitter smile. "Thanks."

"Perhaps you should thank Geralt, not me," he replied, ignoring her sarcasm.

He glanced over at the child, who was watching their conversation with wide eyes.

"Now, heal this child." With that said, he vanished just as quick as he had appeared.

She sighed and waved a hand over the little girl's face.

"Sleep and forget," she whispered. "It was all a dream that you'll forget as soon as you wake."

The girl's eyes closed as she drifted into a deep slumber while Criss worked on reshaping her whole genetic inheritance. She removed all traces of the disease from her body and made sure she wouldn't be left with any lingering trauma from the aggressive treatments she had undergone.

At long last, she was done. She returned to the lobby to find the Director nervously pacing back and forth whilst Geralt waited on a couch, apparently patient and calm, but his face held a hint of anxiety that didn't escape her. He looked her up and down, making sure she was all in one piece, before taking her hand as she went to give the Director news about his daughter.

"Her health is fully restored," she said.

"And in the future?" he asked, wary. "I mean, is there any chance for a relapse?"

"None. She'll continue to develop like any normal child and will have no recollection of this day. You can tell her what you like or nothing at all. For now, take her home and take care of her. She has suffered enough."

The relief that washed over his face was a balm for her aching heart.

He ordered a car to drive her and Geralt back home.

She curled into Geralt's side in silence and he just looked at her with amber eyes while stroking the side of her face with care.

"Are you alright?" he asked when they were within the safe confines of the apartment.

"I'm fine. Healing her wasn't too taxing and through this we have won her father's enduring support."

"That's good, but that's not what I meant." He tipped her chin to look into her eyes. "I get the feeling that you're sad, but I'm not sure why. You did a good deed, you should be happy."

"Perceptive as ever..." She sighed. "I'm happy I could help her, but she is but one while there are millions out there suffering just like her for the sake of the Plan. And I know Sama would start preaching about how a little pain is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. A trivial thing. And he's right in a twisted way, but I can't help but feel sorrow. For that little girl, for her father, and all others in similar situations. Pawns in a game, all of them. And I'm expected to take part. To move them on the board, disregarding their pain if it all suits the greater good."

He pulled her into a tight embrace and she just sunk into his arms willingly, seeking comfort.

"It's a passing mood. I'm fine," she tried to reassure him.

"You're not fine, and that's fine," he said, kissing her temple. "It just makes you human. If you felt no sympathy for them, I'd worry about your sanity."

"That would make two of us, because I already worry about it. I don't want to end up justifying any means to an end or become cold and calculated. But who knows what tough decisions lie ahead? I might end up doing the exact opposite in the end."

"You won't."

"You sound so sure, but you can't possibly know."

"I know you, and I'm sure you'll have no trouble remaining soft and warm like you are now."

"I'm not soft," she protested.

He chuckled. "Yeah, you are."

She pinched his side in protest and he grunted, amused. "Soft like a plush toy. Adorable too," he continued, laughing as she pinched him again. He had such a way with her that she could never stay sad or angry for long. Somehow, he'd always say exactly what she needed to hear to get her out of her slump. She loved that about him.

"You're soft too, you know," she said, smiling. "And cuddly."

She expected him to take offence at her teasing, but he simply shrugged, amused.

"I am, but only around you, so best not go around advertising that particular trait or people will think you're either a liar or delusional."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."