To Heal A Lonely Heart

Every Time You Leave

We must have dozed off. When I woke up, noon had just passed. Geralt was still asleep, snoring quietly. Good, he needed his rest. Only the gods know how much sleep he'd gotten in the past three months.

Careful not to wake him, I got up and tiptoed my way over to the washroom, preparing a bath we'd both need. When I returned to the bedroom, Geralt was just waking up, his hands reaching out, searching for my warmth on the mattress, but he wouldn't find me. I giggled a little.

"I'm here, me minne," I laughed and he finally opened his eyes, captivating me with his beautiful golden gaze. I just couldn't but walk over to him and crawl into his open arms as he sat up against the headboard. He pulled me close and pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

I sighed in content. "I'm so glad you're back."

"Hmm. Why didn't you wake me?" Geralt asked after a moment of silence.

"You need your rest, minne," I stated simply, my hand reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch.

After a while, I spoke up again, attempting to move off my husband's lap, but he held me close.

"Come on," I laughed, struggling against his grip, "I made you a bath. Get up before it gets cold, I won't heat it again."

My threat made Geralt get up, yes, but he didn't let go of me. In fact, he did quite the opposite: he held me even closer, carrying me over to the tub and setting me in first before climbing in himself. I turned around, facing him, and grabbed the rag and the block of soap I had set on the stool next to the tub. I let the soaped up rag run across Geralt's chest. With a sigh, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, letting me wash him.

I noticed a few new scars, bright pink in contrast to his pale skin. I traced it lightly with my finger.

"What was it?" I asked quietly.

"A kikimora. Got a thousand for it."

But it wasn't only one new scar. I traced one along his collarbone. It seemed to be the latest; it was the most red. "And this?"

"Bruxa. Pretty thing, reminded me of you."

I splashed him. He chuckled, "That is, until she turned. Maybe it was just me projecting. So long without you... every day was like torture."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. If it weren't for the people in the village, I would have gone crazy."

"You had a lot of work?"

I hummed. "Yeah, well... not that much, but this little boy... he had a fever and it just wouldn't go away. I tried everything, for weeks, but he just wouldn't get better. I even had to ask Triss for help, but she didn't know what to do either. But... you know who she sent me to?"

"No. Someone I know?" Geralt guessed.

"The High Priestess of Melitele. She told me some interesting things about you, minne. For example, that you were a very talkative little boy. Or," I smiled at him, then paused, my voice hardening, "that you were there last year, half dead! You told me the job went fine! Geralt, I don't want you to lie to me, even if you think it's for the better, that you're only protecting me. I'm your wife. I don't want any secrets between us, not even little ones."

He looked at me, a guilty expression on his face. He sighed.

"I know. I should have told you. But you have to remember, there was a lot going on, I didn't want you to worry even more. This little girl had just died, your treatment not working. You thought we had finally managed to get you pregnant, but you ended up bleeding anyway. I just didn't want you to break from the heavy load, my love," he mumbled.

Now it was my turn to sigh. "I know."

I let myself fall against his chest and he wrapped his arms around me.

"I just hate it when you're gone for so long and I have no idea if you're alright."

"I know, my love. But the people here need you."

"And the people out there need you."

Geralt scoffed.

"They do," I insisted. "You save lives, minne."

"Hmm."

I pulled one of his hands off my arm, playing with his fingers as we soaked in the warm water. I giggled as I turned his hand, his palm now facing upward. His skin was wrinkled, so was mine.

"I think we should get out. I baked yesterday, with apples from our garden," I beamed.

***

Geralt was able to stay for a few weeks, but he had to leave way too soon. There were rumours about a pack of werewolves in the east, and that they were moving towards us. With a heavy heart, I let him go. I had to. Neither of us would risk the safety of the village that we called our home, the people that – for once – accepted us, and had welcomed us so warmly.

I wanted to come with him, but there were three sick and one pregnant in the village. I couldn't leave. The people needed me to stay just as much as they needed Geralt to leave.

It were moments like these that make me doubt that settling down had been a good idea. But I quickly pushed that thought aside. This place was home. It was a place where we'd be safe. A place we'd always return to. A place where we'd start a family – there was no doubt in my mind that we could manage that.

Nenneke had granted me Melitele's blessing, and even if Geralt didn't believe in the gods, I did, and I knew that with Melitele's blessing, we would only have to wait for destiny to decide when the best time would be for us to have a child.

So, I stayed behind, anxiously waiting for my husband to return. But deep down I knew I didn't have to worry about him. He was strong, experienced and clever, and werewolves were some of the simpler creatures to cure or kill, depending on their origin – and my husband's mood. He'd be fine. I told that to myself over and over, but the nights, like every night that he didn't lay in bed next to me, were restless.

Most nights, I wouldn't even go to bed, knowing it was pointless – I wouldn't fall asleep. Instead, I spent the nights in my healing chamber, brewing all kinds of potions and medications for my patients and Geralt, always refilling the stock of his Witcher-potions.