Chapter Text
Walking down a busy street, you bump into people all the time. Because it's New York, everyone wears black. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary when a man in a black coat runs into your shoulder. You turn to apologize, but he is already gone. Shrugging, you look down and notice that something had fallen out of the man's pocket during the tussle.
While bending to pick the object up, you notice that it is a brass locket. Just the locket without the chain. You examine it in your hand, turning it over and over. You keep it in your hand the whole way back to your apartment, curiosity keeping you from letting it out of your sight.
All you can think about for the next three days is that locket. On the second day you were able to open it, but found it empty. Why was that man carrying around an empty locket? And why was that the only thing to fall out of his pocket? It's not like you had crashed into each other. It was just a passing graze. Nothing about this seemed to make sense, and you find the locket claiming more and more of your thoughts as the days go by.
On the fourth day you come home from work, put your bag on the table, and walk over to where you had the locket placed on your desk. You open it again, and the weirdest things start happening when you do. The locket becomes hot to the touch. The lights start to flicker around you, eventually going out completely, leaving you in the dark. The clocks start chiming even though it was 6:23. You watch the locket spin on your desk, and a deafening ringing erupts in your head. You groan and kneel on the floor. Closing your eyes tightly, you feel yourself getting pulled into the ground.
And then you feel weightless. Like you were back on the Drop Tower at Great America, holding your best friend's hand. But now you are alone, confused, and panicked.
Heart in your throat, eyes screwed shut, you keep falling. Until you aren't. You slam into dirt on your side, nothing easing your fall. Gasping for air, you try to roll over but the pain is too much. You cry out once air returns to your lungs. You open your eyes and find dirt and grass and rocks. Like you are on a road.
Pain shoots through your left side and shoulder. White hot and excruciating. You don't even want to try to stand up yet. The thought just makes you nauseous. So you lay there. You are not sure just how long, but you know that the sun is going down when you hear what sounds like hooves and footsteps. Your eyebrows scrunch as you lift your head and shift your body enough so you can see whoever it is.
Another wave of pain and confusion crashes over you as you see the man approaching. He has white hair and is dressed in black leather and what looks like armor. He is walking beside a horse and slowly comes to stand by you. Once he reaches your side, he crouches down and looks over your form on the ground. Your breath catches in your throat once you see him up close. His eyes are striking and amber. They are like none other you have ever seen before.
He reaches a hand towards you but retreats when he sees the fear on your face. Even if he is beautiful, you have no reason to trust him, and you know that he could overpower you even if you weren't injured due to his sheer size. His eyes look concerned but his expression is blank as he continues to look at you.
"Would you like me to help you?" he asked quietly, gruffly. His voice is deep and gravely. "I won't hurt you. But there are creatures that will if you stay here any longer."
Still unsure as to whether you can trust this man, you nod. He gives a single nod back and reaches his arms out to lift you off the ground. You shriek in agony as he raises you, cradling you to his broad chest. The movement ignites the ache that seemed to have dulled after laying on the ground. He only grunts at your cries.
He brings you to his horse and helps you into the saddle. He climbs up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle to grab the reins. You groan when he steadies you with a hand on your hip, noticing you swaying. Waves of nausea roll over you when the horse starts to walk forward. The jostling makes the pain in your side and shoulder so much more intense. A sob escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can feel the man behind you tense, but he doesn't say anything. No words of assurance. Just a hum that seems to resonate in his chest.
Eventually the pain becomes too much, and you pass out. You wake up in a rickety bed in a room that seems to belong in an upstate cabin. You try to sit up, but tendrils of pain shoot up your sides. You lift your shirt to look at the bruises forming all over your skin around your torso. It wasn't a dream. You really weren't home in your own bed, in your own apartment. A stone seems to settle in the pit of your stomach. Everything about this feels foreign.
You try to think about what got you here. The man. Was he here? You still have on your clothes, so you know nothing happened to you while you were unconscious. You remember falling. The ground. The locket. You remember it spinning on your desk at home. The weird flickering and clock ringing. You wonder where the locket is now. You didn't grab it before you began falling. Your eyes were closed the whole time. You reach into your jean pocket and feel cool metal at the bottom. You pull out the locket and gape at it. How did it get into your pocket?
Before you can think any further on the topic, a knock sounds at your door.
"Come in," you call out in a hoarse voice that sounded nothing like your own.
The man who brought you here enters. He now only wears a thin shirt and leather pants, allowing you to see just how broad and muscular he is. His golden eyes focus on your form in the bed. He begins to walk towards you, and you can't help but draw back slightly. You still know nothing about this man and his intentions towards you. You have no idea why he helped you at all. You can tell that he sees the hesitation in your body language which causes him to stop his approach.
"Who are you?" you manage to weakly croak out.
"My name is Geralt," he says simply with that deep voice of his.
"Y/N," you offer. He hums in response.
"Do you remember what happened to you?" he asks as he walks very slowly towards you.
You open your mouth to tell him but realize that what you want to say sounds crazy and unbelievable, even in your own mind. You decide to tell him that you were beat by a group of men while on your way to town. His eyes almost soften at your words.
"Did they do anything else to you?" he asks quietly.
You shake your head but figure that since you don't have any money on you, telling him that they robbed you might be a good idea. He again hums. By now he is at your bedside, looking down at you.
"May I inspect your wounds?" he asks as he sits next to you on the bed.
You nod, but you realize that you are going to have to take your shirt off to do so. He pulls his face into what seems like an apologetic grimace. Taking a deep breath, you nod again and ask if he can help you get your shirt off. His fingers find the buttons down the front and begin undoing them one by one. Your heart rate picks up and his eyes flit to yours as he unbuttons the last one keeping your shirt across your chest. He slides the fabric over your shoulders, careful around your left shoulder that is covered in a dark bruise.
You are left half naked in front of this beautiful, burly man. Unfortunately, you had decided to wear one of your more revealing bras to work today because of the button down shirt you wore. It is a comfortable but thin cloth bra that left little to the imagination. You can feel his eyes on your chest for a brief second, but he is respectful and does not stare. You see confusion flicker across his face when he sees what you are wearing under your shirt. You cock your head to the side, unsure as to why he is shocked by your apparel. Every woman wears one, it's no big surprise, you think to yourself.
Slowly, he brings his hands to your hips and begins his inspection. He gently pokes and prods at your ribs and stomach. Sharp breaths and groans fall from your lips as he does so. He presses a palm to your stomach which causes you to inhale shakily, not as much from the pain but the almost tenderness of the action. His fingers trace over circular scars you have on your stomach, wordlessly asking what they are from.
"I had an illness when I was little. It left its share of scars all over my body," you say, looking at his thumb that is still running over the scars. He hums and continues his inspection of your body. His thumb prods the ribs just under your breasts, checking for breaks. Your heart speeds up and you gasp at his touch, partially because of the pain that it leaves in its wake but because of the intimacy of it. His eyes meet yours for a second, but recede and focus on your bruises again.
He runs a hand up your arm to your shoulder. Dark rings of bruises encircle the joint. He glances again at the bra you are wearing, and he blinks in confusion, shaking his head ever so slightly. He continues his investigation of your injuries without speaking until he asks a sudden question.
"What is this that you are wearing? I have never seen a woman in anything like it before," he asks almost sheepishly.
Heat begins to seep into your cheeks and ears. "What?" you whisper.
"This," he says as he tugs slightly on the strap of your bra.
"It's a bra. Do women here not wear them?" you draw back in surprise. He shakes his head, repeating that he has never seen one.
"Where am I?" you ask, hoping to get an answer like upstate New York or something familiar. Instead he tells you a town that you have never heard of. You have a sinking suspicion that it is not in the United States. You follow with, "What country?" He tells you a 'kingdom' that you have never heard of either, confirming your suspicions that you are no longer in America. You nod absentmindedly, trying to pretend like you know where he is talking about. You can't keep up the facade for long, and you know that he will be able to see right through you, so you admit to him that you have no idea where that is. You watch his eyebrows knit together, and a frown tug his mouth down. He grunts but does not say anything else. He helps you put your shirt back on and button it up.
"Well, your injuries will not last long. Your ribs are slightly cracked but not completely broken. Your shoulder is bruised badly but will heal normally. I need to leave. I'll be back in the morning. You need to eat and drink water. I'll have them sent up before I go," his eyes glance over your body one more time before turning to leave.
"Thank you, Geralt," you call after him as he opens the door. He turns to look at you, nodding once, then closes the door behind him.