-8-

Kit had forgotten as well. One of the scorpions must have gotten to her without her noticing the sting, Geralt thought. She was now under the same spell whose effects he had finally shaken off.

For a brief moment, several questions flashed through his mind: How much had she forgotten? Would it take her as long to remember as it took him? Would she take longer because, unlike the witcher, she had no magic of her own that could have dampened the effects of the spell? Would she be like that woman they had found who had forgotten herself, and never return to him?

Oh, the irony, he thought. Fear pierced his heart like an icicle, his body suddenly feeling completely numb. He immediately understood everything Kit had felt when their roles had been reversed, and it was truly a terrible experience.

He let go of her arms and instead cupped her face as gently as he could manage.

"Kit, please, look at me. Please," he almost whispered the last part as he lightly ran his thumbs over her cheeks, which were covered in blood and tears. "I promise you nothing bad will happen to you."

For a moment, the shaking stopped and she became very quiet. Was there a hint of recognition in her eyes, he wondered, now that she was looking right into his? The different shades of blue in the pattern of her irises were so familiar to him that it seemed outrageous that she should not recognize him as well. How could she not? How could she have looked at him for ten years and not recognize him now? He briefly wondered if Kit had asked herself the same questions when she had been in the same situation.

Geralt was not certain how long they looked at each other. It could not have been more than a moment, but it felt long, so long that he was convinced that she would give up her protests any moment now, because of course she would recognize him, her husband. He was almost believed that there was something, some recognition, but then Kit quickly averted her gaze and continued to shake as violently as she had done before, as if the last few seconds had never happened.

Any hope Geralt had harbored simply evaporated.

His heart heavy, he reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a cotton tissue with which he carefully dabbed her face before pressing it lightly against the gash on her forehead. A small bump had already formed around the wound. He prayed that Kit forgetting would not affect her ability to heal herself. He could not bear to see her hurt or in pain.

"I'm Geralt," he said while he continued to carefully dab at the wound. "You're safe with me, I promise." It was the only thing he could think of to say as he was having a hard time gathering his thoughts.

He gave her a moment to process, watching her lips tremble uncontrollably between ragged breaths before taking her hand and making her press the cloth to her forehead herself.

"I promise, I'll explain everything to you in just a moment. But I need you to tell me what year you think it is. How old are you?" He took her free hand in his and caressed her fingers lightly.

She stared at him for a moment, but Geralt did not press. Naturally, his own reaction to waking up in a strange place had been a different one. He was used to weird things happening to him. He was also skilled and powerful and would have fought his way out of this if that was what needed to be done. She, on the other hand, obviously did not remember him – which also meant that she did not remember anything about this world, since he was the very first person she had encountered in it.

"Please," he begged, "I need you to answer this question. You're safe, I promise."

"It… It's 2005. I'm 20," Kit finally stammered.

Geralt pondered for a moment. In her world it had been 2020 when she had left, she had been 34 then. After spending 10 years with him and being in her mid-40s, she had lost 25 years. More than half of her life.

He sighed. How would he even begin to explain this to her?

How had he done it the first time? He tried to remember. The memory was vague, felt incomplete. He was unsure if it was a lingering effect of the spell or if it had simply been too long ago. She had reacted so very differently back then, had played it all off as if someone was merely trying trick her. It was all an act, of course, but this version of Kit, the younger one, could not keep it together at all.

She still sat there, trembling under his gaze, trying to hide and protect her naked body.

Of course, Geralt thought. Back then she had been alone and fully dressed when she had woken up. Now she had woken up in the embrace of a stranger, both of them completely naked. Even in her state – or maybe especially in her state - she had drawn inevitable conclusions and was aware that they had had sex the night before. Which, from her current perspective, likely appeared not to have been a voluntary act.

He shuddered at the thought and blindly grabbed for the bedsheet behind him, covering Kit as best as he could.

Geralt remembered a misunderstanding between them very early on, where he had assumed that she was disgusted by him after seeing his scars for the first time. The scars had faded, thanks to her, but surely now that he was sitting right in front of her, she could not help but notice what was left of them and that would certainly not contribute to her feeling safe. Geralt had always been afraid that she would come to fear him like so many people did back then. He could not imagine anything worse than her being afraid of him.

But his nightmare had come true. He wanted to be nothing but comforting to her and yet it seemed that he had become the source of all her terrors instead.

He cleared his throat.

"In this wardrobe are some of your clothes." He pointed to the piece of furniture that had caused her injury. "Get dressed and then come outside so I can take care of that wound." He got up. Her gaze, filled with fear, followed him. For once in his life, he wished that he was smaller, less intimidating, and most of all not naked. He caught Kit averting her gaze as he got up to put on a pair of pants before leaving the room.

Maybe she needed space to calm herself, he thought. In any case, his presence was not helping.

He rummaged through a few cupboards, hoping to find Regis' wonder mud as he had named it. He did not want Kit to run around injured in case her powers had stopped working. Maybe the spell had affected them somehow, who knew? But he also did not want the others to see her like this. It seemed so unlikely nowadays, but he could never forget how people used to treat him, could never forget how they used to hate him. If someone saw Kit like this, they might assume that he had done something to her. Of course, everyone knew that he adored her and they would realize it was a misunderstanding the moment they learned that she had lost her memory. But what if judgement was passed before they could figure this part out? Then it might be too late.

He finally found the vampire's concoction, gathered a shallow bowl of water, a washcloth and a small towel. Waiting for Kit to emerge from the bedroom, he shoved aside several plates on the fully set breakfast table to make room for his medical supplies.

What would have happened if Marlene had still been busy preparing breakfast? Would she have heard the commotion and come into their bedroom? Would she have drawn all the wrong conclusions from what she saw? Or would the presence of another woman have helped?

The sound of rustling fabric had stopped a few minutes ago, as had the sound of the brush running through her long hair, accompanied several times by the sound of it falling to the floor as her nervous hands failed her. Now she tried to breathe, long and measured breaths. It was a slow process. She was obviously dreading to leave the room.

Finally, even the sniffing had stopped and it was quiet. Maybe she considered if she could escape through the bedroom window? She could, that was the whole point of it. She had insisted on adding it - the room would have quite possibly been a death trap for her in case of a fire if the door was blocked. Geralt would simply be able to shield himself – and her, if he was present. But for the rare case that he was not there, she wanted that window. It was tiny, so that the bedroom would stay cool in summer and let in as little heat and sunlight as possible, just barely big enough for Kit to squeeze through. Geralt reassured himself that she was currently in no condition to even attempt to escape due to the shock and probably the hefty concussion the wardrobe had afflicted on her. And even if she did, he could easily catch up with her. But the mere thought that she might run away from him made Geralt feel sick.

Eventually, Kit must have realized that there was nowhere else to go.

She cautiously stepped out of the bedroom, still holding the bloody tissue in her hand. At least the bleeding had stopped.

Geralt could not help but smile when he noticed that she was wearing the yoga pants she had worn when she had come into this world. They had been stashed away in her closet, unworn for years, and yet she had never had the heart to throw them out.

"There is too much nylon in them anyway, it's not like anyone here could recycle them," she used to say.

She had stopped shaking, but she was pale and so obviously frightened. She used her free hand as a guide, her fingertips feeling along the walls as she approached him on unsteady feet, barely daring to look him in the eye.

"Please, sit down."

He nodded at the chair he had pulled out for her. When she did, he pulled another chair close and sat down himself.

"Let me take a look."

He placed his hand carefully under her chin and studied her face. A laceration like that usually needed stitches, but her powers seemed to be actively at work, which he took as a good sign though the wound still looked ghastly. He dipped a corner of the washcloth into the bowl of water and carefully began to dab Kit's face with it. He spared the wound, but tried to wipe away as much blood as possible from the surrounding area.

When he was satisfied with his work, he opened the little pot he had placed on the table and showed her the brown substance.

"Doesn't look too pleasant, but it should help."

Geralt himself had not used the wonder mud in years, but they always kept some on hand in case one of their workers got injured, and Regis gladly supplied them with new batches whenever they needed them.

Kit watched as he dug two fingers into the mass. Geralt waited for a sign from Kit, some kind of acknowledgement or consent for his treatment, but she just sat there, pale and frozen, like an ice sculpture, and scared to death.

He set the pot aside and used his clean hand to sweep the hair from her face before carefully applying the concoction. Kit sat still, not flinching as sculptures rarely did.

"How do you feel?" Geralt asked as he dabbed the paste on her forehead, all while feeling her gaze on him.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then remained silent.

"What do you think?" she finally croaked. She cleared her throat.

He looked briefly into her eyes.

"I can imagine."

He could indeed imagine. Not only because he had been through the same thing, waking up in a place he ought not to be at, not even three weeks ago. But also because he remembered enough of her to know exactly just how terrified she must have been at that very moment. Looking into his ugly face probably did nothing to ease the tension. But it was the only face he had, and she had eventually fallen in love with him despite of it. There was hope. A smidge of hope anyway.

Geralt soaked another corner of the washcloth in water and dabbed it on the parts of her face and neck he had missed. He dragged out the entire process for as long as he could, trying to think of a way to explain to her what was happening. When she had first come to his world, he had told her about magic and monsters, and she had stubbornly refused to believe him, even when he had used his witcher sings right in front of her. She had just found a way to explain it all away.

Geralt grimaced at the thought of having to go through all of that yet again.

"If you fail once, try two more times to make sure your failure was statistically significant," he muttered as he concentrated on a particularly persistent spot of dried blood on Kit's temple.

Kit eyed him curiously, and only then did he realize that he had spoken this little piece of wisdom out loud.

"You once told me that," he added without giving her any context.

"That's strange, you know." Geralt was almost shocked to hear her speak without stammering or trembling. "I overheard one of my professors say exactly that to another student just yesterday," she said timidly, but now finally looked him in the eye with what he supposed was curiosity.

No, you did not, Geralt thought. But it did not matter: If he could get her to focus on something other than her current situation, he would count it as a win. And a little discussion might do just that.

"You're the one who said that to me," Geralt said.

"I didn't?" She looked so utterly confused.

"Oh, you did, about eight years ago, I think."

"Eight years ago, I was in school trying to figure out why someone felt the need to put letters into mathematical equations. I doubt I even knew the term 'statistically significant' back then." Some decisiveness had snuck back into her voice, even though she was still talking in hushed tones.

"Eight years ago, I was experimenting with a fertilizer that I had mixed myself to grow some herbs that did not appreciate the local climate very much. You urged me to try again and see if the fault was possibly with the fertilizer or the seeds."

"And what was it?"

"The climate, still."

Kit snorted, seemingly surprised by her own audacity, because she immediately froze again. She probably thought it wise not to laugh at him, the terrifying stranger.

Geralt smiled to show her that it was alright.

"It was worth a try," he said, hoping to keep the conversation alive now that she had finally dared to speak.

"Do you always take advice from twelve-year-olds?"

"You were 36 back then," he tried to argue.

"36 what? Nights without sleep?" It seemed that her disbelief had at least temporarily overcome her fear. Now this felt familiar to Geralt. This was much more like the Kit he had first met, although a shiver had crept back into her posture. She seemed to be afraid of her own boldness. If only she would remember that he had always liked that about her…

"36 years old," he resumed the conversation.

"I'm 20, I could not have been older than I am now, 8 years ago. That's not how math works. That's not how time works either."

Geralt smirked again.

"You are 45, but yesterday you were put under a spell that made you forget the last 25 years."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Spell? What do you mean by spell? Like in 13 going on 30?"

Geralt did not know what 13 going on 30 was but he supposed it was a book or something like that. From what he remembered, they made up quite fantastic stories in her world to entertain people.

"A magic spell."

"Like…?" She wiggled her fingers.

He nodded.

"Right. I'm not feeling too well but I didn't hit my head hard enough to fall for whatever this is." His Kit would have said that in a voice dripping with sarcasm. This one, the younger one, said it softly, trying not to offend the man across from her.

Geralt rested his elbows on the table and then buried his face in his hands. He grunted.

Just how was he supposed to prove any of this? She had already seen her reflection in the bedroom mirror when she had brushed her hair and had probably not noticed any real difference to her usual appearance, which surely made his remarks sound unbelievable. And why should she believe him? She had already looked much younger than her age 10 years ago and had not shown any signs of aging since, at least none that Geralt had noticed. She insisted that skin care was a religion where she came from. She mostly stayed out of the sun, did not smoke, hardly ever drank and used a lot of creams and such. And although Geralt could not quite believe that this was the only reason why she did not change, it certainly had not done any harm.

So how could he prove something to her if all possible evidence was against him?

"Why am I here?" Kit asked, glance stern but her voice trembling again.

"It's hard to explain."

"Can I call someone? My roommate tends to get worried when I'm gone without an explanation."

"We don't have phones here," Geralt explained before he was able to recall what a phone even was. And you never had a roommate, he thought. You are scared to death and want to call for help. He was glad he remembered enough from his brief trip to her world to expose her lies.

"Is there somebody else who does?"

He shook his head.

"Afraid not. It's 1292, no phones at all. No cars either. No electricity. No smartphones." The word phone had triggered a chain reaction of memories and the modern amenities Kit had shown him during their brief excursion to her world suddenly all flooded back into Geralt's head. It had been like this for days – certain things triggered his memories and he remembered more and more every day.

"What's a smartphone?" Kit looked at him like he was crazy. "And does that mean there are dumbphones? If so, what are they?"

He wondered why she did not recognize the thing that she claimed to be so attached to in her old world. Had the spell affected her even more than he realized? Or was her concussion perhaps more severe than he had assumed? Her unsteady step might indicate the latter.

"Wait, did you say 1292?" Kit suddenly interrupted his thoughts.

"You are in another world now, have been living here for 10 years."

"This is not as funny as you think it is," she said in a way that sounded more like a question.

Geralt silently agreed that this was not the least bit funny.

"Eat," he said suddenly and gestured at the table. "I have to show you something." He had an idea and prayed that what he was looking for actually already existed.

She looked at him strangely.

"I really wish I knew who came up with whatever this is." She gestured around. "I really need to finish writing my paper. I don't have much time left."

Geralt rested his chin on his hand.

"How exactly did you get from waking up in my arms screaming bloody murder to thinking that this is made up?"

She suddenly froze. Had she realized that sticking two naked strangers together was going a little too far for a joke? Her heart rate picked up again and her face took on a somber expression.

"Why did I even wake up… next to you?" she asked quietly, averting her gaze. Her poor little heart was beating so fast it made the flutter of a sparrow's wings seem slow.

"Well, it was you or the horse," Geralt joked, trying to lighten the mood.

This earned him a blank look. He cleared his throat.

"I'm your husband."

Geralt studied her face, trying to read what she thought of him.

"Have been for several years," he added. "Six, to be exact."

He heard her exhale audibly. It was probably a shocking, if not disgusting, revelation for her. The thought that she might not like him felt paralyzing, like a cold wave that swept down his back.

Now he understood why the first thing she had asked him for was not to run away until she had figured things out. He realized exactly how painful it must have been for her to find the person she loved most without even a single memory of her.

"Right," she said suddenly. "Marrying 14-year-olds is illegal."

"You weren't… Ah, never mind. Here," he tossed a croissant onto her plate, "eat, you infuriating woman."

Kit just blinked in surprise. She started tearing off pieces of the croissant without much enthusiasm, occasionally staring at him. What must she think of him, he wondered?

"Can you please eat something instead of just picking your food apart? You tend to become unbearable when you get hungry, and we will be on our feet for a while."

This comment earned him a surprised look. Apparently, she had always been a hangry person because she reached for an egg and some fruit. Hangry - that was a word she had taught him early on, he suddenly remembered.

"Why, according to you, do I not remember anything?" Kit asked.

Geralt closed his eyes as he answered, fully aware of how ridiculous he sounded.

"Because yesterday you were stung by one or more scorpions that were bread to transfer a spell that makes people forget."

"Right. That makes total sense…"

"Kit, I swear that is exactly what happened. How else do you think you got here? How do I know that you prefer strawberry jam over all others? That you like your butter salted?"

Her eyes widened at his words.

He paused for a moment.

"How do you think you ended up with a tattoo of a wolf behind your ear?"

"I don't have any tattoos. I'm beginning to think you've got the wrong person." She looked at him like he was insane. "Is this a kidnapping gone wrong?"

Geralt got up and motioned for her to come with him.

She hesitated, her eyes narrowed, clearly signaling her distrust of him. It seemed that there were circumstances where her heart and obedience could not be bought with food after all.

But then Kit stood up anyway.

Geralt led her to the bathroom. While they had originally set up the bathtub to draw water directly from the stream next to the house and simply drain into the ground below, they had later added the same mechanisms to a wash basin. Even if it was not exactly what constituted a bathroom in her world, it was close enough.

They stood in front of a mirror above the basin and Geralt took a hand mirror out of a drawer. He positioned himself so that Kit could see the reflection of the back of her head in the large mirror in front of her.

She flinched when Geralt carefully pushed her long hair aside to reveal the tattoo behind her ear, only to blink in surprise at what she saw.

Kit shook her head. She immediately began to rub on the skin behind her ear aggressively but nothing happened.

"That can't be. I would never…" She did not finish the sentence.

"But you did. You can tell it's already healed so it's not recent."

Kit nodded cautiously.

"Which means it must be at least a few weeks old." Technically, that was a lie. With her abilities, the tattoo had looked perfectly healed just a few minutes after she had gotten it. But she did not know about these powers yet, so she would not argue. And Geralt needed every argument in his favor.

"You can wash your face now," he added, sure that the mud and her powers had done their part.

He was not at all surprised that Kit did not hesitate even a moment before she opened the tap, a mechanism she had devised herself, and carefully washed away the dried wonder mud and blood residue. She looked at herself in the mirror above the basin. The laceration and the swelling were gone. There was no sign of her altercation with the wardrobe.

Not believing her eyes, she kept touching her forehead.

"It hurt. It hurt a lot. Why… How?"

"I could tell you but you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me?" she demanded, looking at him through the mirror.

Geralt considered the implications of that – memories of her old world. She was probably too overwhelmed to notice that she was missing essential parts of it. He decided that it was too early to tell her or do anything that would make her focus on that. Instead he decided to distort the truth.

"Magic," he said. His priority was to get her to trust him and make her feel safe, so they would have time to either figure out how to restore her memories or wait for them to come back on their own.

"Magic, again?" She rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'm that gullible? Yeah, I admit I have no idea what's going on. This must be some kind of nightmare, I don't know. But don't treat me like an idiot." She looked so angry. And Geralt liked that. He preferred to see her angry rather than scared, hurt and confused.

He used Aard to blow a piece of soap off the sink.

Kit jumped in surprise.

"Magic," he reiterated and left to continue his breakfast while Kit just stood there stunned.

She said nothing for the rest of the meal, but Geralt could tell that she was trying hard to make sense of things. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be fine, but when she looked at him and found him staring, he looked away.

The silence between them was only broken when the door suddenly opened.

"Look who's back! I hope you missed me!" Eskel greeted them with a broad smile on his face, which immediately changed to a look of concern when he saw their faces. He was followed by a young woman whose dress was as black as her hair and who, judging by the size of her belly, was very close to giving birth.

"Kitty cat!" the woman exclaimed, smiling at Kit. Her movements were unexpectedly nimble as she walked around the table to hug her, only to receive a confused stare in return.

"Anais, Eskel, why don't you join us for breakfast?" Geralt asked and gestured to some empty chairs.

"Are you unwell?" Anais asked as she sat down next to Kit, who had not said a word and who looked at Geralt nervously when the woman put a hand on her shoulder. "I missed you," the stranger added with a sincere smile.

"She lost her memory," Geralt interjected. "She doesn't remember you. Or me."

"Oh dear," Eskel added. "So she got it too, huh?"

"Got what?" Kit finally asked. Anais had withdrawn her hand and looked at her friend curiously.

Geralt and Eskel exchanged looks. Geralt shrugged.

"The morning I left to pick up your friend," Eskel nodded at Anais, "Geralt had woken up not remembering a thing that had happened in the last 20 years."

"I do remember now. Most of it anyway. But now Kit's under the same spell, as of this morning. She doesn't believe a word I've told her."

"'So you don't recognize me?" Anais wondered.

Kit shook her head. She looked like she was going to cry again.

"What's the cause of this? The timing is rather unfortunate. Can you do anything to remedy the situation?" Anais asked Geralt, her voice merely an anxious whisper.

"The spell is unstable," Geralt explained. "Took me a few weeks to remember anything at all. Not sure if it will be the same for her, she's lost even more than me."

"But what's the cause? Are we at risk as well?" Eskel wondered, scrutinizing Kit as he did so.

Geralt shook his head.

"The carriers were magically enhanced scorpions. We purged the nest, there is nothing left."

"What?" Eskel and Anais both asked with a slight delay, making them sound like they were about to practice a canon.

Geralt told them about the encounter of the previous day and how they had ended up in the desolate former village.

"Zerrikania? That's so far away," Anais interrupted them in disbelief.

"If this is what they breed over there, it can't be far away enough," Eskel interjected with a grim expression.

Geralt nodded.

"What now? I need my friend back." She nodded at Kit who looked more confused than ever.

"I'm so sorry," Kit said. Everyone, including Anais, knew that she did not even know what exactly it was that she was apologizing for.

"It doesn't matter. If need be, we will have to reacquaint ourselves." Anais faked a smile for Kit. "I need some air. Would you mind accompanying me for a walk?"

"I…" She glanced at Geralt, but quickly turned her head back to Anais. "Yes, of course."

She had seen a chance to get away from him, Geralt thought wearily, and she had taken it.

As soon as the door closed behind the two women, Geralt sighed and slumped into his chair.

"Looks like you had a rough morning," Eskel guessed.

"She's afraid of me."

Geralt gave Eskel an account of the past few hours, so that his friend would understand just how scared Kit was, how terrified of him she was.

"So what? She will remember, I'm sure. Just a couple of weeks and everything will be as it always was." Eskel's words lacked any conviction but he could think of nothing better to say.

"I ran away because I couldn't handle things. Even though not much had changed for me. But for her? She got thrown into a new world all over again. Wasn't nice the first time, sure won't be any nicer on the second try."

Eskel rubbed his face with his palms.

"You ran away? When? Didn't I tell you not to do anything stupid while I was gone?"

Geralt shrugged.

"Always been steadfast in my ways."

"You mean to say you are resistant to good advice?"

The witcher, not in the mood to argue, said nothing and looked at the door longingly.