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Chapter Text

Ciaran woke up in a pool of water and blood.

He wasn’t surprised; though the last thing he could remember was telling the witcher about Letho’s betrayal and making him promise to tell Iorveth. That was on the boat. That fucking boat. Ciaran sat up, and for some reason, he wasn’t in pain. 

Oh Goddess, am I dead?

That has to be it , Ciaran thought, as he struggled to his feet, still unable to feel any pain. Then he took a step forward and collapsed onto the ground, screaming in pain. It felt like thousands of needles being pressed into his skin while his bones broke, and for a minute Ciaran wondered if he was still on the boat and hallucinating as they hit him. 

He lay there for what felt like hours, unable to do anything but weep. He knew his left leg was broken and was a fairly certain part of the bone was sticking out his leg, his nose was broken, and his crying had caused it to bleed again, making him nauseous, and he knew at least two of his ribs were broken. He tried to squeeze his fists to check how his arms fared. While it seemed like one of his fingers on his left hand was merely dislocated, he couldn’t even close his right fist without sobbing in pain. He wished Iorveth was there and let himself drift off, thinking of how Iorveth would take care of him after he found him because surely they were looking for him, and he would be home soon. 

___

“Ciaran? Ciaran? Can you hear me?” 

Ciaran hummed in response and tried to turn away from whoever woke him up.

“No! Stop that. You’re going to tear your stitches if you keep moving, and I don’t think your poor skin can take me sewing you back together three times. Lay back down the way you were...yes...just like that, and on the soul of sweet Aelirenn, please don’t fucking move.”

“C-Cedric?” Ciaran murmured, voice raspy from disuse and from screaming. He tried to open his eyes, but before he could open them, a hand was on his face, keeping him closed.

“Yes. Please keep your eyes closed or you will sorely regret it.”

Ciaran took a deep breath in through his nose, testing to see if it was still in danger of bleeding. It didn’t even feel bloody, and Ciaran would’ve thanked him, had he not realized one key thing about Cedric’s presence. “You’re sober?”

Cedric chuckled and moved his hand from Ciaran’s face. “Yes, though quite unfortunately. While the visions no longer haunt me, my body still craves it. It’s a feeling I hope you never have, dear Ciaran, though I imagine what you are feeling is far worse than I am.” 

Ciaran tried to nod in response, too tired to form the words to agree, but Cedric’s hand on his cheek stopped him from moving again.

“Ciaran,” Cedric sighed, as Ciaran leaned into his gentle touch, “You must not move.”

“M sorry,” Ciaran whispered as Cedric’s thumb very lightly caressed his cheekbone.

“Do not be sorry, it’s for your safety, not mine. I know you must be in a lot of pain right now, so I will let you rest, and once you wake up I’ll ask what happened.”

“Did-did Iorveth not tell you?”

Cedric furrowed his brow in confusion, “Iorveth?”

“He was looking for me, right? That’s why you’re here because Iorveth asked you. Right?”

Ciaran’s loyalty to his commander was admirable, and Cedric’s heart broke for him. “Ciaran, Iorveth left five days ago to go to Vergen.”

“He didn’t look for me?” Ciaran’s voice cracked as he said this, his world falling apart around him. Iorveth hadn’t looked. He left me to die. The realization hurt more than Loredo’s torture did. 

“He thought you were dead, do not blame Iorveth for this…”

Ciaran began to cry again, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut so he could pretend he was back on that god-awful ship where at least he was useful and at least he was loved by the Scoia’tael.

“Oh...dear Ciaran,” Cedric said as he noticed the careful stitches he had done to Ciaran’s side started to tear as Ciaran began to sob. “Please calm down…Ciaran, I know it hurts, but please calm down or I’ll have to use force.”

Ciaran couldn’t calm down and he really didn’t care what happened to him if he didn’t. Iorveth didn’t care about how, and his six years of service counted for nothing in Iorveth’s eyes. He had wasted everything for a cause and a group that didn’t care enough to do the most basic of searches to find him. As he writhed about, he felt something below his ribs tear and the pain of it caused him to wail in agony.

“Gods be damned, I’m so sorry for this Ciaran-” 

Ciaran felt Cedric lift his head as he carefully poured something into his mouth. It tasted rather like wine, though Ciaran could tell that it wasn’t quite it. At the second mouthful, it tasted vile, and Ciaran tried to spit it out.

“Ciaran. Please just drink it. I know you’re scared and this probably tastes terrible, but this will stop the pain for now.” 

Ciaran gave up on trying to refuse it and took small sips, eventually finishing the glass.

“Yes, that’s it. I’ll stay with you while you are out, okay? You’re safe here.”

That didn’t do anything to help Ciaran’s panic and he tried to open his eyes again. Cedric swore and quickly closed the curtains, making the room dark except for a few candles burning on the other side of the room. Ciaran blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked up at Cedric, who was shirtless, presumably because his right side was almost completely covered in freshly wrapped bandages. Ciaran’s fingers twitched as he debated with himself to reach out and see what had hurt Cedric so terribly.

“Wha-what-” Ciaran couldn’t quite make out the words, as a wave of drowsiness hit him. 

“The kingslayer, Letho of Gulet. He tried to attack Triss Merigold and I defended her. I remembered dying in the woods with Geralt of Rivia, but I suppose I must not have been dead enough because I woke up and my visions were gone. Had I not found a dear friend along the way, I would have died, and I wouldn’t have found you.”

“I-Iorveth-Letho-he’s-”

“Last I heard, Iorveth is okay. I do not know where he is, but Letho did not harm him. He thought the both of us were dead. Loredo’s boat was destroyed, and I was laying in the woods. If he had known, he would have come to find you. According to my friend, he mourned you deeply and could hardly bring himself to sleep some nights while you were gone.”

“Wh-who-?”

“Ah. My friend is dear to me, but...I’m afraid you two have never quite seen eye to eye.” 

“A-ah! C-Cedric-!” Ciaran cried, suddenly realizing he couldn’t feel his hands. He tried to move any of his limbs, but they wouldn’t move no matter how hard he tried. “C-c-” He couldn’t seem to move his mouth either, and after a moment he couldn’t keep his eyes open. He continued to panic, his breath coming out in sharp and unsteady intervals until Cedric began to speak.

“It’s okay. You’re alright. I had to give you some dwale so I could fix your stitches without hurting you, and to help you calm down. If you feel tired, it’s okay to go to sleep and I promise I will be here when you wake up, and no harm will come to you. You cannot panic when it wears off because I am fixing your stitches. I will talk you through everything, and I’ll let you know when it's done.”

Ciaran found himself drifting off to sleep as Cedric began to talk through the process of fixing his stitches. The darkness was calming, and it was easier to relax than to lay there numb.

Chapter Text

Ciaran woke up to Cedric humming something as he washed the blood off Ciaran’s side with a wet cloth. His skin felt cold and tingly, but thankfully it was no longer numb. Ciaran blinked his eyes open as they adjusted to the bright light of the room. Once he got used to the light, he realized his vision was fuzzy. He blinked a few more times, praying it wasn’t a result of his injuries. As he turned his head to look at Cedric, he felt something wet on his cheek. 

“Good, you’re awake! How do you feel?”

“Thirsty,” Ciaran rasped. His throat felt like it was on fire. “I can’t see well.”

“That’ll be the dwale. I’ll help you sit up so you can drink some water, okay?”

Ciaran nodded. 

Cedric carefully placed the washcloth he had been using in a metal bucket, and grabbed a worn blanket from a small, wooden table across the room. He folded it over one arm, and returned to Ciaran’s side. 

“This will hurt,” He warned, and carefully he helped Ciaran sit up. Once he was sitting, Cedric quickly tucked the blankets behind him. Ciaran relaxed, and found that while his ribs still twinged, they hurt less than they did before. As he settled himself into a comfortable position, Cedric grabbed a mug of water and passed it to Ciaran. After taking a few sips, Ciaran passed the mug back to Cedric, who put it on the table. Ciaran wiped his face again, trying to get the mystery liquid on his face off.

“Salt and vinegar.”

“Huh?”

“I put it there to help wake you up from the dwale,” Cedric answered. “I’ll wipe it off for you.” He grabbed a different washcloth than the one he had previously used, and carefully removed the salt and vinegar from his face. He put the washcloth back, and sat in the chair next to Ciaran’s bed.

“Do you remember what we talked about last night?” Cedric asked, gently. “About Iorveth?”

Ciaran nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He had been left behind. 

“I will repeat what I said to you: he thought we were dead. He tried to save you, but the boat was destroyed, and he couldn’t have left any later than he had. He didn’t know.” 

“Are you sure?” Ciaran’s voice cracked. “You know that for sure?”

“I do.” 

“Okay.” Ciaran was quiet for some time, and stared out the window at the woods. Cedric stood up, quietly groaning in pain, and attended to his wounds.

“What will we do now?” Ciaran asked quietly. “I assume Iorveth’s commandos are with him, and I don’t have a home here.”

“The way I see it, we either stay, or leave. If you would like to go alone, you can go alone. I can live with either one, though I’d rather we stick together. This is my home, so if you choose to stay, you are welcome here.”

“I don’t know.”

“Regardless of whatever option you choose, there’s always the matter of your injuries. I am doing my best to heal what I can, but I am not sure if your leg will heal properly. I have treated it with egg whites and old wine so it doesn’t get infected, and I have set it in plaster. However, because I have no idea of how long you were out there alone, I don’t know if it started healing incorrectly. Other than that, you should see no severe permanent damage from anything else. I was worried your ribs were broken, but thankfully they were not. Your right hand was broken in several places- mostly the fingers- but if you are careful in letting them heal, they shouldn’t cause you much difficulty. Your nose was also broken, but it set well. Your left arm was dislocated and broke in a few places, including your scapula, but again, as long as you are careful, it should not cause you much difficulty. As for the stab wound on your side, it has healed well and I doubt it will leave too much of a scar.”

“How much time will it take to heal?”

“Several months, at the very least. I am well acquainted with a woodworker, and out of good will he has agreed to help me make you a walking stick, as well as leg supports to ensure you will be able to get around. If I can, I try to make you a moveable chair of shorts, so you do not need to stand, but making the plans and materials may be difficult. If it is necessary, I will do what I must, however.”

“What about the Scoia’tael? I won’t be useful.”

“It’s not about you being useful. When Iorveth’s face was healing, did he take a break so he could come back stronger? When my drinking got too bad to stay, was I ignored and hated for knowing I couldn’t continue?”

“Well…”

“Iorveth and I broke up, because of my drinking. His reaction is not everyone else’s. My point is, Ciaran, that regardless of whether you rejoin the Scoia’tael or not, no one will hold your injuries against you. Your use to the Scoia’tael is not important if you injure yourself trying to prove you can do it. You need to heal, and take care of yourself before getting back into any Scoia’tael business.”

“Cedric I-” Ciaran sighed. “But then what will I be good for? I don’t have anything but the Scoia’tael.”

“You have me, Ciaran.” Cedric carefully held Ciaran’s unbroken hand. “I’ll put down the bottle for as long as I live, if that is what you wish. We can go anywhere you want, if it will help you.”