Work Text:
Nobody is invincible. Not emotionally or physically. Everyone has a breaking point; what changes is a person's resolve, their willpower, their ability to push through. For some, breaking down is frequent. Easy to trigger. For others, it is extremely rare. For Geralt, it was extremely rare. He was used to most will-breaking scenarios and his witcher mutations helped to dull most experiences that would, to most, be traumatic.
But of course, this didn't mean he was immune.
It was dark in Toussaint. Around midnight. He was in the mouth of a dark and dreary cave. Lifeless. Damp.
Geralt was screaming. He could hardly breathe. He was blinded by rage, an overwhelming sense of pain and loneliness that he rarely ever felt. He was grabbing everything that was at his disposal and hurling them towards anything around him - barrels full of twine were destroyed, the contents as well as the remains of the shattered barrel scattering the dark stone around him. He was punching the walls of the cave mercilessly, his knuckles red and bloody as he yelled into the empty darkness. His eyes were closed tight, moisture threatening to squeeze through as he continued to pound at the walls of the cave.
He was alone. He was alone. He was alone.
His friends were weeks away. His only friend from Toussaint was rejected by his kind. Both the duchess and her sister were dead because of him. His daughter was to be empress. His former lover was nowhere to be found, and she likely wanted to keep it that way.
And Geralt was alone.
He fell to his knees, shaking, watching the blood from his knuckles drop on the floor. His voice was scratchy and his throat should have hurt, but it didn't. His knuckles didn't hurt either. He was numb. He leaned over, scraping his forehead against the ground and gripping his now blood-stained hair tightly with his hands. He screamed again, but the scream transformed into a pained sob and he pulled his hair harder, rocking back and forth, the sharp rocks of the cave floor drawing blood from his forehead as well.
His breathing was unsteady and the air around him felt humid and suffocating. He found himself gasping for air between his sobs, his face wet with what he assumed to be a mixture of blood and tears. Witchers don't cry, he told himself. You're weak. You're being pathetic. Witchers don't cry. But despite what he liked to tell others, as well as himself, that simply wasn't true.
His knees were beginning to ache as he rocked on the cold, jagged stone floor. He slumped to the side, dropping one arm to the ground to keep himself from falling completely, his forehead scraping even deeper into the ground. He couldn't focus on anything. His sobs and screams continued to echo throughout the lifeless cave.
He was alone. He was completely alone. He had nobody.
His heart was aching. His whole body felt weak. He felt helpless. He rarely ever felt helpless.
In the midst of his sobs - his angry, frustrated, and lost screams - he felt a hand on his shoulder. It felt foreign. He didn't react. He didn't acknowledge it. He didn't even know if it was real or a cruel hallucination. He didn't care. The hand squeezed his shoulder gently before he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him and pull him upwards so that he was sitting upright on his knees, leaning into the body of someone he didn't bother to look at. He didn't want to open his eyes. But someone was there. He instinctively leaned into them, his body shaking uncontrollably, blood still seeping from his self-inflicted wounds. The person unknown to Geralt began to gently rock them back and forth, a hand rubbing slow and comforting circles on his back.
"Geralt."
Geralt's breath was heavy and strained. He continued to shake.
"Geralt."
Geralt did not respond. He felt a sigh.
"Oh, dear..." The figure mumbled, not ceasing the gentle movements. "Geralt, Geralt, Geralt. Whatever shall I do with you?"
It was at that moment the scent of herbs wafted into Geralt's senses, and suddenly he felt an overwhelming sense of calm. He felt an utter sense of relief. He almost began to sob again just from this overwhelming sensation alone.
"Regis," He choked. He wanted to stop, he wanted to pull away and prevent the vampire from seeing him like this. But he couldn't. His body would not let him move. Instead he leaned in closer, chasing the comfort that emitted from him. "Regis, I..."
"Shh," Regis calmed him, moving the hand that was not on Geralt's back to Geralt's hair, running his slender fingers through it in a gentle motion. "Hush, Geralt. You need not say anything."
Geralt didn't say anything.
They sat like that for what felt like ages. Geralt's breathing steadily evened out as time went on. The blood on his hands and face was beginning to dry. The tears stopped falling. For once, Geralt felt safe. He didn't feel alone.
At some point, without the witcher even realising, Geralt had wrapped his arms around Regis as well. He held him tightly, as if Regis would simply vanish if he let go. As if Regis was an illusion, and if Geralt stopped paying attention, he would be gone. Geralt didn't want that. So he clutched onto the vampire as tightly as he could, his fingers grasping at Regis's jacket desperately. Regis did not complain about any of it.
Once Geralt had sufficiently calmed down, Regis began to pull away. Geralt's grip tightened. "I'm not leaving, my friend," Regis assured him softly. "We cannot stay here forever. Would you like to return to Corvo Bianco?"
"No," Geralt's voice was muffled as his head was buried in Regis's chest, but it was still noticeably weak and scratchy. "Too many memories. Don't wanna go there yet."
Regis was silent for a moment. "Mère-Lachaiselongue, then?"
Geralt nodded.
"Well, then," Regis began, softly pushing Geralt away and helping him steady himself. Regis smiled reassuringly. "Shall we?"
Most of the journey to the cemetery was lost on Geralt. He could hardly focus. He spent most of the time looking at Regis, walking close to him, almost to convince himself that he was really here. It was also during that journey that Geralt began to question why and how he was here. Was he in danger? Would the vampires of Toussaint attack him? How did he even know to find Geralt?
He didn't have the energy to ask anything.
The most prominent memory he had was arriving at the cemetery. They trudged on slowly, Geralt still close to Regis as they navigated the many rocks and twisting plants. Luckily there were no monsters in sight, though Regis would have no problem dealing with them. Geralt simply didn't want him to go away. Regis lead him to the crypt where he used to spend his time, to the hard, uncomfortable stone that he had used as a bed.
"I'm, uhm... I apologize," Regis said sheepishly as they approached the chunk of stone. "This is the closest thing to a bed in this damned place. But I trust it will do the job for now."
Geralt nodded, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly drained and exhausted. He approached the bed and lay down on it, closing his eyes immediately and letting out a long breath of air. Regis cleared his throat.
"I will be by the bookshelves, if ever you need me," He explained. "I am confident that everything will be fine. I will keep an eye on you. Don't be afraid to-"
"Stay," Geralt grunted. Regis stopped talking, and Geralt opened one eye to glance at him. Regis was simply standing and staring, his hand gripping the strap of his bag. "What's that look for? I don't want you to go anywhere. Can you stay here for the night? Please?"
Regis swallowed nervously, but nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course I can." He removed the bag from over his shoulder and placed it gently on the ground. "I suppose I should clean you up, at any rate." He dug around in the bag and pulled out a vial and a rag. The vial was filled with a clear substance, and Regis began to pour the contents onto the rag. He then walked towards Geralt, but hesitated.
Geralt was silent for a moment. "Does the blood bother you? I can wash it off if you want."
"No!" Regis quickly stopped him, but seemed to be embarrassed by his quick reaction. "No, of course not. I apologize. I'm a surgeon, Geralt. I'm used to this."
The vampire quickly went to kneeling beside the exhausted witcher, gently taking one of his hands and dabbing the wet cloth over the bloodied knuckles. The dirt and grime came off easily with Regis's calm and experienced touch, and Geralt felt an almost overwhelming sense of calm. Everything else in the room seemed to disappear except for Regis.
Regis.
"Regis."
Regis stopped and looked curiously at the witcher. "Yes?"
"C'mere."
The vampire blinked in confusion. It took him a moment to understand. A feeling of warmth engulfed him, as well as a feeling of dizziness and embarrassment.
"You mean... Do you... want me to lay beside you?"
Geralt nodded, shuffling over so that the vampire had more room. Regis shifted, stood up, and brushed some dust off of his clothes. He then sat down beside Geralt, slowly, before laying down on his back. His hands rested on his chest, fingers intertwined and clutching the rag as he stared at the dark and damp ceiling, not sure what he should be doing.
Before Regis could think anymore about it, Geralt's arm wrapped tightly around Regis and held him close. Regis instinctively stiffened, but noticeably relaxed after a few seconds. He quickly noticed Geralt's slow breathing. He had fallen asleep already.
Regis swallowed and laid a hand on Geralt's arm comfortingly, his thumb absentmindedly stroking it as he turned his head to look at the witcher resting beside him. He looked... peaceful. Bloody and bruised, but peaceful. It was a nice contrast from earlier. He reached over and dabbed at the blood on Geralt's forehead with the cloth. Geralt pulled him even closer. The vampire softly sucked in a breath. He then finished dabbing the blood to the best of his ability before setting the rag down on the ground beside them.
Regis was still and silent for a long time. He could feel Geralt's heartbeat against him, could feel the witchers steady breaths. He looked again at Geralt's sleeping face.
Regis smiled.
He then shifted and embraced Geralt, holding him firmly but gently against his chest. He closed his eyes, calmed by Geralt's heartbeat.
"You are not alone anymore."
Geralt had no idea how long he was out for. His eyes hurt when he finally came to, puffy and surrounded with a painful and irritating crust. His head was pounding and his entire body ached. He shifted to rub the crust from his eyes, which was when he noticed the position he was in.
He was tangled with Regis's body. Regis had him locked in a comforting embrace, their legs intertwined, Geralt's head against Regis's chest. Geralt froze.
A rush of white-hot embarrassment suddenly engulfed him as the memories of the night before caught up to him. Suddenly he felt a dull ache in his knuckles and his forehead from where he had scraped himself, but he noticed that all of the blood was completely wiped off. He remembered Regis doing most of it, but Geralt must have fallen asleep while he was finishing. He winced slightly, recalling that his friend caught him at his worst possible moment. At his lowest point, a point Geralt didn't even want to acknowledge. Geralt despised that.
And yet he was also overwhelmingly grateful.
Regis had a comforting aura. The scent of herbs had an effect on Geralt like nothing else did, much like the scent of lilac and gooseberries had, at one point. He couldn't help but try to get as close to the vampire as possible. It was ironic, he thought, that a witcher found the most comfort in a higher vampire.
He noticed soon after he woke up that Regis was sleeping. It was strange, in a way. He had seen Regis sleep before but he had never been physically against him while he was. Vampires didn't need to breathe, yet Regis was breathing. Slowly. Perhaps it was a way to blend in with humans, something he could have trained his body to do. Something about it made Geralt feel at ease, as if reassuring him that Regis was there. He was alive, with Geralt, and he was safe. At least for now. He wanted to savor this moment, he wanted to live it forever.
Sadly, that wasn't going to happen. He felt Regis begin to stir, felt the vampire's hand move up to stroke Geralt's hair. Geralt instinctively leaned into the touch.
"...Geralt?"
"Mm."
Regis was silent, and suddenly stopped his hand movements as if realising the position he was in. He quickly began to pull away from the embrace.
"Geralt, I-"
"Damn it, Regis," Geralt grunted, frustration in his voice as he held the vampire tighter, shoving his face deeper into his chest. "If you leave here, right now, I will kill you." All sense of shame seemed to be eradicated from Geralt with the risk of Regis leaving him.
Regis stilled. He was too still, too stiff. Geralt sighed and pulled away slightly to look Regis in the face.
He looked.... incredibly embarrassed. It was almost hilarious. Endearing. His eyes were wide and uneasy, looking everywhere but at Geralt. Geralt almost laughed.
"You don't have to look like that. I don't bite, y'know." That made Regis smile. Thank the gods.
"I... of course not. I know. I apologize." And yet the vampire still looked flustered and confused, as if at a loss of what to do. "Geralt, you... About last night..."
"I don't really want to talk about it."
"Of course, you are not required to do anything of the sort. However..." He trailed off for a moment. Geralt was silent, waiting. Regis sighed. "Do you trust me, Geralt?"
This caught Geralt's attention. "Is that even a question? I trust you more than anyone."
Regis looked to the side, looking flustered and embarrassed again. "Right. Yes, and I you." His hand began to stroke Geralt's hair again, but it didn't seem like he even realised he was doing it. "I know you don't wish to talk about these things. You never do. But I am under the impression that you need to."
Geralt let out a groan and shoved his face deeper into Regis's coat. Regis did not respond, which in a way infuriated Geralt, but he could smell the strong scent of herbs with his face this close to Regis so he couldn't really stay upset. He let out a sigh.
"I don't know," he began hesitantly, his voice slightly muffled. "I guess... I don't know. I felt lonely. That sounds stupid."
"It doesn't," Regis reassured him softly, his fingers continuing their gentle motions that made Geralt shiver involuntarily. "It absolutely doesn't."
Geralt swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He dreaded talking about himself. "I missed you," he mumbled. Regis breathed in.
"And I missed you, dear Geralt." The choice of words made Geralt's heart skip a beat. He hoped that Regis hadn't noticed. He pulled his face away from the vampire's coat and looked at him as a thought crossed his mind once more. Regis looked back.
"How are you... here?"
Regis smiled, though the smile seemed melancholic. "I truly shouldn't be," he admitted. "I'm still anathema. In all honesty I likely always will be, at least in Toussaint."
"So why are you here?"
"Because you needed me."
"But how did you know that?"
"It's rather hard to explain," Regis smiled again, looking off to the side. "We have a... bond, you could say. It's technically invisible, but it is there." Geralt's face contorted into a look of confusion.
"A bond? How? I don't remember making any blood sacrifices in your name or anything." Regis laughed.
"It's nothing like that," He explained. "It has to do with sacrifices. As in, making sacrifices for another at the cost of personal comfort. The bigger the sacrifice, the stronger the bond." Regis looked at Geralt again, his eyes filled with an emotion that Geralt couldn't decipher. "Dettlaff had made great personal sacrifices to revive me, and as a result, we shared a strong bond. I became anathema for you, and the gravity of that is truthfully very close to what Dettlaff had done for me. It isn't a spell; you, being human, likely would not even be able to feel it, aside from a small comforting presence perhaps. But for vampires that bond is much more apparent."
Geralt's heart swelled as he listened to Regis's explanation and he couldn't quite understand why. He couldn't decipher the feeling, though he felt as though his heart might burst from the heaviness of it. He cleared his throat. "So you could sense I was... upset?"
"Yes." Regis paused the movement of his fingers and looked hesitantly at Geralt. He moved his hand to place it on the side of Geralt's cheek. Geralt instinctively leaned into it. Regis swallowed. "I could feel something was off. I never ignore a feeling like that."
"So are you in danger?" Geralt mumbled, looking intensely at Regis. Regis felt himself go warm at the feeling of being stared at like that.
"To put it simply, yes. I believe we will be safe for now, however."
"Why?"
"Because it is not only I who can sense the bond between us. Other vampires can as well."
"So they'll leave us alone?"
"As long as I don't overstay my welcome, then yes, they will briefly tolerate my presence."
Geralt felt comfort in that. But still his face contorted into a frown. Regis, noticing this change in expression, frowned as well, his thumb running over the scar on Geralt's face.
"Is something wrong?"
Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the light touch. "I just... I don't want you to leave."
Regis was silent. He was silent for longer than Geralt would have liked. The longer the silence went on the more Geralt felt very, very stupid.
"Sorry, that's not what I meant. I want your safety to come first, obviously, and-"
"Geralt," Regis interrupted him, smiling sadly. "I know. It will be alright, I promise you."
Geralt looked up at Regis directly, his dark iris's seeming to bore into Geralt's skull. They felt hypnotizing, otherworldly, and they were nearly impossible to look away from. A small part of Geralt wanted to say that he was surprised at the information Regis had told him, but he wasn't. Geralt knew they had a bond. He could feel it. He felt overwhelming comfort in the presence of the vampire, a comfort he couldn't explain. It was addicting and it drove him crazy. He never wanted to leave his side.
It was with this thought that something clicked inside his head. Something monumental, a feeling that carried with it a fact that he could hardly believe he hadn't noticed until now. He felt a tightness in his throat but he swallowed it down immediately. It hit him like a lightning strike, and now he knew he could not let it go without doing something about it. Not after all of this lost time. He couldn't let Regis slip away.
He suddenly felt a surge of confidence.
"Regis?"
"Yes, Geralt?"
There was a brief pause before Geralt grabbed the front of Regis's jacket, pulling him forward into an intense kiss. The minute their lips collided Geralt knew it felt right. This is the comfort he was seeking. This is the comfort he needed. He hadn't been able to stand it, and suddenly all of the tension and fear he felt seemed to melt away like snow under the scorching sun of Toussaint. Geralt couldn't get enough; he felt a surge of an indescribable joy as he felt Regis lean in closer, gripping softly but firmly at the hair on the side of Geralt's head. This was right. Geralt knew it, and a few subtle gestures told him that Regis did, too.
Vampires did not need to breathe. Unfortunately, witchers did.
Geralt pulled away, panting and out of breath. He stared at Regis and Regis stared back, his pupils blown wide and his gaze piercing. Geralt shivered.
"Oh, my dear witcher," Regis smiled. Despite the smile, the statement didn't exactly make Geralt feel confident in his actions. It wasn't the joyful tone of voice he had been hoping for. Geralt hesitated.
"Was that okay?" He asked quietly. Regis let out a small laugh.
"Of course it was. In truth I had been wanting to do that for ages," he admitted. Geralt's heart leapt. He concluded, then, that Regis could do nearly anything and Geralt would have a powerful reaction to it. Regis pulled him closer and placed a tender kiss on Geralt's forehead. "I would never leave you, Geralt. I could not. Even if I'm not here, I will always be back. You are not alone anymore."
Geralt closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing in the serenity he felt. The feeling of being cared for and comforted was a feeling he had been unknowingly craving. He had not been aware of how desperate he was for Regis to be with him. He had not known that Regis was the perfect medicine for any wound and that Regis was exactly what he needed.
"I love you, Regis."
He hadn't meant to say it. The words carried such weight that he had not even tried to consider. It was an impulse, and yet he didn't regret it. He felt Regis suck in a breath, before feeling the comfort of his firm yet gentle grip embrace him.
"And I love you, dear Geralt. Do not forget that. Now please, rest. You need it. I'm here."
Hearing the words repeated back comforted Geralt impossibly more. He suddenly decided, at that very moment, that the vampire would not leave Toussaint alone. Not again. Geralt would not allow it. He felt a surge of peace at the thought of his decision, and he would tell Regis tomorrow. But for now, he would rest.
Geralt would not be alone anymore.