A/N: Chapter updated (27/01/23)


He stretched his numb limbs after another dreamless night and his eyes landed on an amusing sight. The sorceress looked like she fought someone in her sleep and had lost miserably. She was lying on her stomach like a discarded doll with one hand and leg hanging off the seat, the other thrown over the armrest and her face mushed into the pillow. Her blanket piled on the floor and her pant leg gathered halfway up her buttock.

Geralt had always been of the opinion that there is no such thing as an ugly woman, but he also believed that some were easier on the eyes. She was in the latter category – even if he preferred she wasn't.

His eyes continued to roam over her curves and he couldn't help but wonder if she had dressed this way to entice him.

Were the men of this world so resilient to such sights that it was normal to walk around them half-dressed? He certainly wasn't. If she were a woman in his world, he'd take it as an invitation to bed. But this wasn't his world, she was Ciri's friend and he was dangerously close to being a creep.

He decided to cover her, but as he bent to pick up her blanket, she stirred and lazily opened her eyes. She peered at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Your blanket was on the floor," he said, aware that this was the second time she woke up to him behaving weirdly.

She glanced down at herself and quickly rolled onto her back, trying to pull her clothes back into place.

Was she attempting to be modest? If she was, she was doing a poor job, he thought. Her shorts barely covered her behind and her neckline was too revealing to be anything but tempting.

He dropped the blanket over an armrest and headed for the bathroom. A splash of cold water might help cool him off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her grimacing and rubbing her neck when she thought he wasn't watching. Unsurprising, considering the awkward position she slept in.

"You really should sleep in bed tonight. That armchair isn't doing you any favours," he said over his shoulder.

She startled and blushed. "I'll consider it," she answered.

By the time he returned, she had pulled apart the drapes to let light in and was busy looking for something on her nightstand. She turned to him with a smile.

"Feeling better this morning? No dizziness, or blurry vision? Nothing out of the ordinary?"

He shook his head. "No, nothing. Except..." he hesitated. He couldn't tell her he was oddly randy even by witcher standards.

"What?"

"I haven't been dreaming which is unusual."

"Mm, that's a predictable side effect in your situation. It'll be a while before you'll be able to dream again."

He shrugged. "Perhaps it's for the best."

"You fear you'd dream something bad about Ciri?" she asked, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to her.

"How'd you know that?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"On the island, you'd dream of her every night and you'd tell us about it." She bit her inner cheek. "Sorry, it must be unsettling hearing me talk about that."

"Not gonna lie, it's frustrating not being able to remember everything," he said, sitting next to her. "I mean, there are bits and pieces, but nothing coherent."

As he said that, an idea crossed his mind.

"You wanted my trust yesterday. A good place to start would be returning my memories."

She grimaced. "It doesn't work like that. Once erased, there's no bringing them back. With the right triggers, you might remember more in time, but I can't just cast a spell and make it happen." She paused. "Sorry. Let's focus on healing you for now, then I'll cook us breakfast."

She reached for his chest and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her back to support her. Pleasant warmth radiated off her body and her heart sped up.

"In case you faint again," he said, realizing that he might have just frightened her with his forwardness.

She nodded and her touch flooded him with energy and warmth. The blush of pink that coloured her cheeks only faded when she lost awareness. He steadied her for a few seconds until she recovered.

"I'll try to do this as often as possible to speed things along, but you should be good for a little bit even if you're not near me."

"How long is a little bit?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe an hour or two," she replied with a shrug. "I haven't met anyone like you thus far, so I'm only guessing. Better not wander too far away... you know, in case I'm wrong."

She patted his chest with an amused smile before heading into the kitchen.

Taking advantage of the amenities available, he got in the shower and relaxed under the warm water.

He had almost admitted to obsessively thinking about bedding her. Had he lost his mind? Admitting such an urge to a sorceress was like putting a collar on himself and handing her the lead. Only in this case he already had a magical leash on him. He sighed. Why wasn't he angry? He should have been furious. If Yen had done this to him, he'd be fuming and yet, he was calm. Was he under some spell? Was the allure of having her walk around him half-naked messing with his mind? It had to be something, because he could hardly control his thoughts. Her half-naked bottom came to mind, along with a slew of ideas of what he could do to her. Fuck! He had to keep his imagination in check, no matter what she wore. Or what she revealed. For a moment, he considered giving himself some release but discarded the idea. He wasn't that desperate.

He thought about using the cologne she got him, remembering how she had mindlessly leaned in when she caught its scent on him. Once again, he shook his head to chase away the ideas creeping into his mind. He tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling.

"Why did I ever think this would be easy?"

He rummaged through the packages of clothes and a little remorse gnawed at him for his previous presumptions. There was nothing outlandish in what she had picked out. No garish colours, no itchy materials; if anything, everything was comfortable and understated in a way that suited him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrored wardrobe doors and rubbed his jaw. His beard was growing out and he needed to do something about it. He pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt and headed into the kitchen.

She was making fruit pancakes, with an apron around her neck. Going around her, he pulled out the cutlery drawer, looking for the sharpest knife he could find.

"What are you doing?" she asked, taking a cautious step back as he tested the edge of a knife against his thumb.

"Relax, I'm not going to stab you with it. I need a shave." Her sigh might not have been audible to anyone else, but he didn't miss it. So she did fear him. "Having a beard makes me look even older than I am... and that's saying something," he continued.

"I think a razor might be better suited for that purpose. There should have been one in yesterday's packages. Let me see." She wiped her hands on the apron and made for the bedroom. "But, for the record, I think the beard looks great on you," she remarked as she passed by him.

She didn't mean anything by that, did she? he wondered as he followed, eyes glued to her behind. Those gods damned shorts were smaller than some ladies' knickers.

"Here it is," she said, handing him an item that he supposed was a razor. "You know how to use it?"

He turned it in his hands, looking at the series of narrow blades set in the wider part of the item. "I think I can figure it out."

She took it from him and ran it over the back of his hand in a slow caress. He swallowed thickly. "Like this," she said, lifting her eyes to his. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he swore there was heat in her lingering gaze. Whatever he thought he saw, it was gone in the blink of an eye as she took a step back. "There's also some shaving cream in the bathroom cupboard. If you need help let me know," she said, handing the razor back.

He could only nod. Either he was touch-starved or under a spell if even that minute interaction left him speechless.


After a delicious breakfast of apple pancakes drizzled with yoghurt and honey, they watched another documentary. Images of recent wars turned his thoughts to the bloody battle at Kaer Morhen. The Hunt had been chased away, but they were not vanquished and, on his return, another war awaited him.

"Any chance I could train here?" he wondered aloud as the documentary mowed on.

"Train? As in combat?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Mhm. Ideally, I need a partner to train with. Running through drills can only take me so far and I can't afford to lose my reflexes while I'm here, especially since it could be a while before I return."

She lowered her eyes, giving his request some thought before answering.

"No one fights with swords here and even if they did, I doubt they'd be a match for you from what you've told me about witchers. For now, the best I can do is take you with me to the gym. At least the weights will keep your muscles in shape and if therapy is going well and you're recovering at a satisfying rate, then maybe..." she let her words trail off.

"Then maybe what?" He shot her an inquisitive look. It was clear she had something in mind, something she was holding back from him. She bit her lip, looking as if she was deciding to trust him with the location of the Lebioda's bones.

"Then we can discuss proper combat training," she finally ended her sentence. "There may be a way I can help, but when and if I decide it's appropriate, I'll need more information."

"What kind of information?"

"It's still early days," she said, turning away.

He clasped her arm and her heart raced in response.

"I don't know what you need to decide on, but this is important," he said, releasing her. "Fighting the Hunt is serious business and I need to be prepared when I get back. If I come back rusty and slow, I'll be of little use to Ciri. And when slow can be the difference between alive and dead... what's the point of healing me in the first place?"

A heavy silence fell between them.

"I promise I'll help you however I can," she said in the end. "But, it's too early and you're not ready yet. You're too dependent on the tether right now. Please be patient and give it some time."

"This idleness is infuriating," he huffed.

"It's not idleness to focus on what you can do."

"Which is?"

"Heal and adapt," she replied. "So let me heal you a little more and then... Then I'll show you the internet," she said with an unhappy sigh that he couldn't place the reason for.

"You're afraid of fainting again?" he asked when nothing else came to mind.

She shook her head and gave him a wry smile.

"No, I'm afraid the internet will ruin you."

She scooted closer to him and as she touched him, a mix of emotions stirred in him. He did his best to steer his mind away from any dirt, wishing her healing would be over faster. Wishing she'd keep her bloody hands to herself and put on more clothes. Wishing he didn't have to look at her half-dressed all the damn time. This time, she lost awareness for a little longer than in the morning.

He sighed in relief when she grabbed the laptop and sat a little farther from him. Her explanations were a good distraction, but they also quickly became a source of frustration. The keyboard seemed too small for his hands and the touchpad was completely exasperating. Although he made a conscious effort not to snap at her, his voice got that low growl that made people back off. And, of course, she noticed.

"Maybe I should fix us some lunch. You might have an easier time, without me hovering over you," she said, rubbing his shoulder soothingly before heading into the kitchen.

He was left in a staring match with the laptop that had brought him to his wit's end. The thought of putting his fist through the screen crossed his mind a few times, but that would mean admitting defeat and that's not something he did. So, he persevered.

His attempts were interrupted by lunch, followed by another healing session, and his foul mood was appeased. He both looked forward and dreaded feeling her touch. It created a storm of emotions within him, calming and arousing him simultaneously. He pushed it all down and ignored it, cursing his witcher senses for making him so aware of her scent and the heat of her body.

"Once you master the keyboard and pad, the world will be at your fingertips. You'll be able to learn about anything you could want, or close to it anyway," she said once again handing him the horrid device he couldn't master.

He took a deep breath, focused on not tossing it across the room, and then set himself to try again.

An hour later, he had sort of gotten the hang of it. He was slow, and it was still annoying but he got it to do what he wanted, which was better than nothing. She suggested he practice by searching for gym exercises. The results were a slew of informative clips showing either shirtless men or scantily clad women demonstrating the proper way of using machines and free weights. The women were bringing his thoughts into the territory he was trying to avoid, so he focused more on the men. It was mostly things he knew but under different names.

She sat beside him with her knees to her chin, watching him with pride and the primal part of him puffed up his chest with childish glee.

"So, when are we going to the gym?" he asked.

"Monday morning before work. Luckily, the gym is within walking distance but we'll still have only about an hour before getting back to shower and head to work."

Her gaze drifted to the carpet as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Well, that didn't take long, he thought. Already embarrassed at the prospect of being seen in my company.

"Worried about taking me to work?" he rephrased his thoughts more mildly.

"Huh? No, It has nothing to do with you," she answered with furrowed brows. "It's someone at work I'll have to deal with eventually... but not today."

She shook off her worry and smiled again before inviting him for another walk in the park. After an entire day of sitting on his rump, the prospect of even a little physical activity was a welcome change.

It seemed that she went nowhere without makeup, always the same cat-eye he had seen her wear the past few days, but for once she chose sensible shoes instead of heels. The rest of her outfit, however, was as revealing as usual. Her tight pants left little to the imagination, and her short-sleeved top was cropped to show a sliver of her stomach. He'd better start getting used to it because it didn't look like modesty was part of this world.

The hour wasn't as late as the previous evening, so there were more people on the streets and in the park. They strolled through the winding paths of the park and he caught a glimpse of everyday life in this world, people sitting on benches, some pushing strollers, kids playing and couples kissing under the tree canopy.

All as normal as possible in a world that hadn't been ravaged by war in decades.

Yet, he couldn't relax.

His senses were on edge, as usual, catching everything around him, looking for threats. From behind came rushed footsteps heading for them. He turned and tucked her behind him, readying himself to deal with the attacker.

"Relax, he's just jogging," she said, wrapping her slender fingers around his shoulders, and pulling him back.

A man with headphones ran right past them. Geralt kept him in his sights until the next bend in the road. Her fingers caressed down his arm, cupping his hand in hers. He turned to see her smiling.

"You're wound tighter than a bowstring, Geralt."

"Why would anyone just run for the hell of it?"

"If you sat at a desk all day, you'd understand."

She tugged on his hand before releasing it, still smiling. "I wish you'd relax a little while you're here."

"Relaxing isn't in my nature. If it was, I'd be dead by now," he said with a huff.

They walked on through the park until they passed a kiosk. The smell that wafted from the stand made his stomach growl.

"Want to try one of those?" she asked.

As soon as he nodded, she ordered a couple of hot dogs from the vendor and handed him one.

"It's not bad," he said after the first bite. She gave him a surprised look. "What?"

"Don't know why, but I expected you to be a picky eater."

"Being picky is one luxury a witcher on the Path can't afford. Only the rich and powerful have no worries about their next meal. The rest of us manage how we can, trying not to starve over winter."

He kept his eyes on her for the rest of the walk and somewhere down the line, he realized he was hoping she'd get cold again, giving him an excuse to put his arm around her and pull her close. To his disappointment, the night was warm and there was no shiver in sight.

The night ended with them walking side by side to the apartment, and after another round of healing, she headed for the bathroom. Soon after, he heard the shower running.

His eyes landed on the laptop. He still couldn't fathom what he could use it for. Then he remembered what she had said. Everyone finds a use for it, even if it's just to watch porn. Whatever porn was, apparently it was something everybody needed. So, his curiosity got the better of him and he put his new "search" skill to use.

The results left him slack-jawed. Video after video of two or more people having sex in every way imaginable, judging by the titles. He clicked on one and fumbled for the volume controls when a jarring song blasted through the speakers.

Mute!

He sighed, finally hitting the correct button. The clip kept on playing soundlessly and his mouth went dry as he watched a few, telling himself he was researching the sexual habits of this world. Good thing the sound was off because otherwise, he might have missed the sound of the shower shutting off. He turned off the videos just before she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. He swallowed hard and wrestled to keep a straight face while his mind was still playing back sequences of the clips he had just seen. He replaced the highlight reel with the most disgusting monsters.

Drowners. Ghouls. A zeugl in a sewer.

She saw the laptop on the bed next to him. "Glad to see you're practising. Did you learn anything interesting?"

Interesting was an understatement. For a moment, he pondered how he should answer and opted for blunt honesty.

"Not sure learn is the right word, but I found the porn you mentioned yesterday," he answered and watched her look back at him wide-eyed before bursting into laughter.

"Did you find anything you like?" she asked, laughing.

"It's sex. What's not to like?" he replied. "Although, I have to wonder about the veracity of this porn documentary... Is it common for women to pay for delivery services with sex?"

She snorted a laugh and rolled her eyes looking for the proper words to explain. "No, no it's not. They're not documentaries. They're fantasies people like to enjoy... In their alone time... When they don't have a partner... If you get what I mean." She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing before grabbing her clothes and heading for the bedroom door. "I'm going to go change in the next room. I'll be back in about... half an hour."

Did she want to leave so he could -? Not that it was a bad idea. For a moment he considered but that would mean she would be in the next room, knowing exactly what he was doing. A cold shower was what he needed.

"You can change here," he said, stopping her. "I don't have any of the intentions you imagine. I'll just shower and we can get some sleep."

As the cold water hit him, it felt like steam came off his skin. After spending the day trying to repress any lust he felt around her, his efforts were rendered useless. Each time he looked at her, he thought of ways to have her. Maybe this was his curse – to be attracted to difficult women to whom he was bound in some way. Of course, that made him think of binding her in more enjoyable ways. He sighed and turned up the water pressure, hoping it would drive the dirt off his mind.

His focus on sex over the last day and a half was unusually high. Was she doing something to him with her "healing"? It wouldn't be the first time a sorceress had put a spell on him under the guise of healing. Triss came to mind. He had bought her "nice" act hook, line and sinker. He confided in her, trusted her with Alvin and she never once said a word about Ciri or Yen, although she knew what they meant to him.

He couldn't make that mistake again. Thinking from below the waist was not an option. He had to keep a clear head and keep his more primal instincts in check, especially when he had such a terrible track record of judging women. He had jumped in too quickly with Yen, deciding that her violet eyes were worth gazing into forever while ignoring that they were attached to a cruel woman who played with him like a toy.

Besides, sorceresses were adept at using sex as a means to an end. Keira, Fringilla and Coral all wielded it like a weapon to get him to do their bidding.

Thinking of his past failed romances did the trick to cool him down and, by the time he left the bathroom, he had regained a modicum of his self-control.

He found her sitting at the dressing table in a black silk blouse with thin straps and matching shorts.

"Ready for bed?" she asked, rubbing fragrant lotion onto her arms.

"Mhm. Will you take the other half of the bed, or will you continue to be stubborn?"

He wanted to keep his distance from her, but he couldn't bring himself to let her sleep another night crouched in the armchair and twisting her neck while he slept on a soft mattress in a giant bed.

"I'll join you, but I'll not be held responsible for any bruises you might get."

He refused to interpret her quick agreement as anything more than an acknowledgement of how uncomfortable the chair was.

He got into bed and soon she joined him.

"Don't know what I'm thinking, getting in bed next to a man who just watched porn," she teased him.

In the darkness, he saw her smile as she spoke, but his own expression remained hidden from her eyes. Maybe it was pettiness, maybe it was pent-up frustration, he didn't care to think about his motives too much. All he knew was that it was the perfect opportunity to have some fun at her expense.

"Are you insinuating that I might assault you in your sleep?" he asked, feigning anger.

"Oh, no... I..." she mumbled, wide-eyed.

"You actually think you'll wake up to me ripping your clothes off and getting on top of you?"

"I - I -" She swallowed hard and her heart raced like a hare caught in a trap.

"It's a common misconception that witchers are lecherous and I find it offensive," he said as seriously as he could muster.

"I - I was just joking. I'm sorry," she said, looking contrite.

That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. Perhaps he had taken his joke too far.

"Relax, I'm just pulling your leg..." he said, grinning even though she couldn't see his face.

For a moment she was stupefied, then burst out laughing, deciding it was all a jest.

"Sleep well, Geralt," she said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, you too. We'll see if you still have all your clothes on when you wake up." She continued to laugh. "You might not find it so funny in the morning," he added mockingly.

"Oh dear, but now I'm already here and it's too late!" she answered in a fake distraught voice.

He smirked and thought of a few appropriate comebacks but kept them all to himself because, despite his best efforts, all of them were littered with innuendos of what he could do to her, and none of them were a good idea to say out loud. He had said too much as it was.