Chapter Text
Gaetan has a pretty good idea how his day is going to end up even before he hears the fighting. He may have stumbled far enough from the village to evade the necrophages so far but they'll follow the blood trail once they’re done devouring the corpses. Any traveler that doesn't die to the necrophages will be a problem as well. Those who don't want to kill him for the slaughter will want to loot his corpse. Either way he's stranded, with no healing, waiting for a fight that will wound if not outright kill him.
Still he wasn't expecting another witcher, there weren't that many of them left. Didn't change anything outside of lowering his chance of survival, though. From what he’s heard the Wolf School has never met a Cat they weren’t willing to put down.
The stupidest part is that Gaetan can’t even get mad about it. He'd been furious when the Alderman's muscle stabbed him in the back, a burning rage that consumed all other thoughts until he couldn't even remember faces in the blur. Couldn't remember anything until the girl, too terrified to even scream and just familiar enough to shock him out of it. Now the best he can manage is a bitter sort of ache and a distaste towards dying in general.
He's not sure why the Wolf hasn't made a move yet but that doesn't mean he wants to draw it out. So he cuts the interrogation short.
"We've had our little heart to heart, witcher to witcher. Wanna kill me Wolf? Fine. But don't force me to confess."
The Wolf hums in response, crossing his arms noncommittally. Gaetan bares his teeth, knowing it's likely pointless when they can both smell him bleeding. The other witcher raises an unimpressed eyebrow and Gaetan sighs.
"So, mind if I have a dose of Swallow? I'm injured. It'll even the odds a bit."
The other huffs, uncrossing his arms with a nod, "Not going to stop you."
Gaetan makes a show of it, more than he probably should, before throwing his extra strength smoke bomb instead. In the back of his mind he wonders if he'd have taken the Swallow if he had any left or if the bomb still would have seemed like the best choice. But then again, he would have taken Swallow already if he had one.
The stab wound slows him down and the Wolf keeps up with him easily, lack of visibility hampering Gaetan just as much as his opponent. He lunges, blade meeting nothing but open air. Then there's the slide of steel between his ribs, and darkness swallowing him before he can even realize he's lost.
When he comes to all Gaetan can feel is burning pain, unable to tell where his body starts and the feeling ends. His thoughts won't focus, flickering between the weight pinning him down and a desperate scramble to figure out how he got there, muddled by the overwhelming ache.
Is the kitty ok?
He can't even tell who he's with, but he can smell he’s not alone.
Kitty's injured. Got stabbed in the fight with that other witcher. Jumped in before I could stop him.
Brave kitty! Trying to help you kill the evil man.
Maybe. Mostly I think he was scared, and decided to attack first.
He tries to find his legs but struggling saps all his strength, and he can't tell through the dizziness that follows if he's managed to move at all. The heaviness is pressing down on him more strongly now. So much so that he’s not sure which way is up.
Why do you have him all wrapped up like that?
In part to keep him from moving around while that wound heals, or else he might injure himself worse. But mostly to keep you, me, and Roach safe. Wounded animals know they're weaker, so they're more likely to lash out than healthy ones. That's why he'll ride Roach for now, and you'll ride on my shoulders.
A little girl's cheering rattles through him as Gaetan's world rocks back and forth. For some reason it makes him sad, but before he can remember why he slips out of consciousness again.
The world has stopped rocking when Gaetan wakes. When he convinces his eyes to open he's entirely too close to a roaring fire that seems to take up the whole horizon. And trying to flail away from the flames just reveals he still can't move, wrapped so thoroughly in a bedroll that he can barely move his head. The fire focuses as he writhes, revealing it to be a campfire rather than an inescapable blaze, but that doesn't dull the panic at being trapped so close.
A yowl slips out before he can think better of it, and he freezes when something moves above him in response. A large hand reaches over to pin him down, spanning him from shoulder to hip as he's shifted further back.
"Hold still," the damn Wolf rumbles, leaning into view. "You nearly died. Don't want you reopening your wounds and undoing all my hard work."
He's reverted to cat form, Gaetan realizes with a cold shock of fear. Trapped without access to his swords or armor until he's healed enough to shift back. And the Wolf dragged him along like a trophy instead of leaving him to lick his wounds. Or putting him out of his misery as soon as the transformation took hold.
He can't demand answers, a cat's mouth won't bend around syllables that way, so he settles for hissing and utterly failing to bite the hand pinning him down. If his vision goes a bit gray around the edges from the sudden movement, well, that's neither here nor there.
Apparently he gets his point across though, because the other witcher lets go of him, moving to dish out a bowl of stew rich with chunks of meat and the smell of butter. Gaetan's stomach reminds him grumpily it's been over a day since he last ate, longer since he had anything cooked. And here the wolf is just offering it like his blade isn't the one that stuck Gaetan in this form in the first place.
"I'm going to untie the bedroll now. Your wounds seem to have scabbed over, but try not to reopen them by attacking me, alright?"
Gaetan hisses in response but doesn’t bother trying to bite this time, letting the other witcher free him uninterrupted. Once the bedroll is untied he's able to roll onto his belly on his own, thankfully. The Wolf doesn't insist on trying to help, just pushing the bowl close enough that the Cat can reach it without making a fool of himself before turning back to his own meal.
Keeping his balance through the repeated motions of raising and lowering his head is annoyingly difficult, and makes finishing even just one bowl of food painfully slow. By the end Gaetan is out of energy to do anything but shove the bowl away and curl up to sleep, too tired to worry about dragging himself to safety first.
It causes an uncomfortable jolt of panic when he wakes in the morning to find the other witcher still there, moving around the camp as he packs up. The Wolf lays out a plate of shredded jerky for him as soon as he notices him awake, and Gaetan is pleased to find reaching down to grab each piece no longer makes him dizzy.
Still, it takes more attention than it should to track down and chew each scrap of meat, so he still hasn't had time to consider what he's going to do next when he looks up and realizes the whole camp has been packed for some time. The other witcher crouches in front of him, just at the edge of arms reach and offers a quirk of a smile.
“Rolled up my cloak and the bedroll over the saddlebags. Figured you could ride there? I can lift you up, if you’ll let me.”
Gaetan’s on his feet before he can think it through, realizing all at once just how helpless he is, injured and overwhelmed with a near-stranger looming over him. His legs quake with the effort of holding himself up and he knows he has no chance of making it over to the horse on his own, let alone climbing up onto the saddle. He doesn’t want to be left behind, but in that moment he wants to be touched even less.
He makes a low, disquiet yowl, swaying dangerously and too dizzy to risk even laying back down without falling over. And the Wolf doesn’t even flinch, leaning forward to offer an outstretched hand instead.
Gaetan can’t find the energy to argue. He closes his throat on a hiss and stumbles forward. One, two shaky steps before he topples as the world spins. The Wolf catches him, swinging him up onto the saddle with a smooth motion that suggests he’d given it more thought than he let on. The padding is narrow and wobbly, but Gaetan is able to dig claws into the bedding without risking the horse. And it beats walking.
His head lowers almost without conscious thought and he surprises himself by falling asleep, soothed by the notion that neither horse nor witcher will let anything reach him up here.
Gaetan wakes up around midday feeling much more like himself. Still a cat, so he has a lot of healing to do yet, but the feral edge of his thoughts is much easier to ignore. When the Wolf wanders over to check on him and give him some water and jerky for midday he’s able to ignore the instinctive fight or flight impulse and respond with a grudging sense of gratitude instead. He’s still tired, cranky, and in pain, but he’s aware how much simpler it would have been for the other witcher to just leave him behind. How far out of his way he’s going to nurse the Cat that attacked him back to health.
So instead of spending his time hissing and growling every time the other moves he gives a grateful sort of chirp and tries not to make a mess of the bedroll with his meal. Then he spends the next hour or so listening to the Wolf ramble about his plans to the horse. And wondering who names their mount after a fish of all things? Really?
He remembers after a while that he knows the horse’s name but not the witcher’s. Well, he has his suspicions, but no way to know for sure. After considering ever more ridiculous ways to try and articulate his question he decides it’s not his problem. If the Wolf wants him to know his name he can damn well introduce himself.
Instead he turns his attention to watching their path, slowly piecing together how far they’ve traveled from the scenery passing by. He’s lost a day, maybe two if the other witcher was traveling slowly. After a while the lands they’re passing through start looking familiar again.
Which… brings its own dilemma.
The thing is, he knows how much extra work he’s been, even as a cat. And he’s under no illusions he’s been a polite traveling companion either. Add to that the fact that the Wolf would have been well within his right to either finish him off or leave him for the necrophages and Gaetan owes the other a significant debt. He’s no cheap prick like the hayseeds who tried to kill him, and he knows enough that not admitting the debt is just asking for the other party to name their price someday down the line. So when they turn a corner onto a familiar strip of road he knows how he needs to repay the Wolf, at least in part.
He yowls, not loudly enough to be a cry of alarm but clearly a demand for attention, standing wobbily on his perch when the other turns to look back at him. Once he’s sure of the Wolf’s attention he turns to face the woods with another low yowl, holding position for a long moment before glancing back (the horse takes that opportunity to shake and nearly knock him off, stupid fish). The Wolf stares at him for a long moment, long enough that Gaetan wonders if he should throw in a proper sort of meow or something. Finally the other glances into the woods and back with a shrug.
“Guess it won’t hurt to make a detour. Where too?”
Gaetan huffs, pivoting to face the other witcher with an unamused look before turning fully back the way he’d been facing before and deliberately meowing, drawing out the syllable into a whining complaint before glancing back.
The Wolf chuckles but gets the hint, and Gaetan has to resist the urge to pointedly ignore him so the fool doesn’t get them lost. Fortunately the other takes care to glance back at him every so often for directions and Gaetan gets better at pointing where he wants to go without knocking himself off Roach. Before long they come to a deer path Gaetan remembers, which in turn leads them most of the way through the woods to the clearing he’d been aiming for.
He hears the bandits before he can call out to the Wolf to leave the path again. Gaetan flattens against the saddle, ears folding back, and the other witcher nods seriously. Within minutes all three of the bandits are dead, leaving the safehouse safe-ish once again. Gaetan scrambles down from the horse and over to the door with a meow.
“This is what you were leading me to, huh? Well, guess we can see how far the bandits got. Not far from the look of things.”
Sand and soil is still hiding almost all of the door, with only a little by the handle having washed away, so it’s obvious those looters hadn’t made it inside, but Gaetan digs at it anyway, glancing up at the other and hoping that makes his opinion clear.
The Wolf takes the hint and helps clear away the soil disguising the trap door before lifting the door free so they can climb down. The inside of the bolthole is brighter than Gaetan remembers, feline senses maybe, but it’s still bright enough for a witcher to get a good look around.
“Nice safehouse,” the other witcher comments, peering into the corners to take it all in. Gaze catching on the trophies in the furthest corner. "Foglet, Ghoul, Grave Hag. Honorton wasn't the first town to try and cheat you, was it?"
Gaetan bristles and stalks over to the opposite corner. He wasn’t here for pity, he was here to pay his debt. The chest is still where he left it and he paws at the lid, turning back with a demanding meow when the Wolf doesn’t follow fast enough. Once the other lifts the lid he shifts to the side so Gaetan can balance his front paws on the edge and peer down. His money is still there, what little he’d been able to save, Joel’s letter, and Teigr.
It twinges somewhere in his chest to remember what had driven him this far, but that was probably the chest wound. He'll be sorry to see the blade go, and his savings, but it's what he had to offer.
Only, when he glances up at the Wolf the other doesn’t seem to get it. Even when he sits back with a polite chirp the other only nods, giving Teigr an appreciative look before sliding the lid closed. Gaetan yowls, jumping back to the chest, but the Wolf just huffs, amused.
“You’ll be able to get it yourself in a few days. Was that everything you wanted to check on?”
Gaetan grumbles but allows himself to be herded back out of the bunker, watching as the trap door is carefully re-buried and the Wolf sets about clearing away the bodies. Still frustrated, he wanders into the woods a ways and manages to bring down a particularly stupid pheasant. It’s more effort to drag back to camp than to kill, but earns him a grateful smile when he emerges with his catch. The cat can’t help but preen a little, dropping his contribution to their meal by the fire.
He still hasn’t come up with any way to convince the other to take his stash by the time they settle in for the night, his attempts at charades just makes the other witcher cover his face to hide his chuckles.
Gaetan hisses and turns his back on the man, pointedly moving to curling up on Roach’s side of the fire. He can still hear the Wolf chuckling as sleep claims him.
Gaetan wakes to darkness, his back one solid ache. Attempting to roll over sends a stab of pain through his chest and leaves him gasping for breath as sore muscles scream in protest. A flare of magic sends the firepit roaring to life once more, startling him out of his rising panic.
Across the way the Wolf slowly eases out of a defensive crouch, glancing from Gaetan to the perimeter and back. Behind him Roach huffs grumpily and returns to sleep as the other witcher finally lowers his silver blade.
Gaetan relaxes all at once, taking a deep breath, before he realizes he can see his arms . He rolls painfully off his swords and reaches for the pitchfork wound in his side, the stab wound in his chest, to make sure neither of them have opened again.
He’s deliberate in his movements, wary in a way he’d been forgetting as a cat. Now that he was, well, still not a threat but likely more of one, could he still count on the other witcher’s tolerance?
But all the Wolf does is put his blade away and lean over his pack, pawing thought pockets until he comes up with a single potion vial and holding it out. Gaetan hesitates a heartbeat too long before reaching to accept the offering. It tastes like Swallow, and after a moment his aches begin to fade. The Wolf nods to him with a faint smile and accepts the empty vial back.
“Figured I still owed you one. We agreed, after all.”
The guilt hits him like a charging fiend, and suddenly the aftertaste seems even worse than usual. Gaetan bites his tongue on his immediate retort, but can't ignore the questions rioting through his mind.
“Why not kill me?” he demands, hand still pressed over the stab wound in his chest. He knows he'll find a matching one on his back as well but he doesn’t want to look like he’s stupid enough to go for his swords a second time. “I threw a bomb at you, and you were still able to take me down in one blow. Why take me with you after I reverted? Why not just finish the job?” He glares at the stranger across the fire. “And don’t try to claim craft solidarity. That was a joke, you weren’t supposed to go along with it.”
The other witcher stares at his wound for a long moment, staring at him but seeing something else. When he finally meets Gaetan’s eyes his expression is wistful, but serious.
“Never intended to kill you. Don’t kill witchers unless I have to. You just decided to attack first.”
Gaetan can’t meet his gaze. “And after?”
“After, hmm. The injury was my fault. Tried to make amends.”
Any protests die before Gaetan can open his mouth to voice them. Because, no matter what he’d believed the other man had proven his good intentions. And… trying to make amends? For almost killing someone trying to kill him? Really?
“It was my own stupid fault, not yours. Nothing to make amends for. Pretty sure I owe you not the other way around, and I’m no cheat. You’ve seen what’s in the safehouse. It’s not much but take whatever you want.”
For the first time in the whole conversation the Wolf frowns, “I’m not taking your emergency supplies.”
“At least take the coin then.”
“Don’t need it. The Path has been kinder to me than it has you lately.”
“Doesn’t mean more coin can’t help,” Gaetan grumbles, but gives in when the other man crosses his arms and refuses to budge. It’s not like he wants to be penniless, but it sits wrong with him to pay nothing back. So he steels himself and nods. “I’ll owe you, then. Something in the future I can spare, you’ve got it. Just ask.”
The other witcher considers him for a long moment before nodding, once. And that, that shouldn’t be a relief, Gaetan knows how many terrible ways this could come back to bite him. But he actually believes it won’t be awful, if it comes from the Wolf, and it won’t be now.
They sit in companionable silence for a long moment, both lost in thought across the fire. Finally the Wolf sighs, tilting his head ruefully when Gaetan glances over.
“Never caught your name,” he explains, managing to make it sound like an apology and not a demand.
“It’s Gaetan,” the Cat replies. Then, more hesitantly than he’d like to admit, “And… what’s yours?”
“Geralt,” the Wolf offers with a smile.
Gaetan covers his face, embarrassed. He’d figured, what with the white hair and the wolf medallion. But that isn’t the same as knowing. And, losing to a fight with the White Wolf? From the songs? And then getting rescued by him? That somehow makes it both better and so much worse .
“Does this make me one of your Damsels in Distress?” He asks before his brain catches up with his mouth. Because he likes those songs, damn it. And it’s not like he ever thought he’d be talking to the man himself when he listened to them. Fortunately he cuts himself off before he can start apologizing like an idiot. And Geralt’s long-suffering look is well worth the slip of the tongue.
“Never believe a bard. He’s always trying to sell you something.”
"If he's selling people throwing money at me I'm not going to argue," Gaetan protests, fighting a grin. "I'd say he earned some benefit of the doubt for that."
"After all the angry spouses and jilted lovers I've saved him from over the years I'd say I've more than paid him back and then some," Geralt grumbles. "You were a better companion as a cat ."
Gaetan can’t help a rush of pride at that, but he lets it pass without dwelling on it. There’s no need to let himself get jealous of the other witcher’s best friend the bard of all things. Instead he turns his mind to the road. He isn’t sure where to look for contracts next, but he’s warm and fed and maybe made a new friend. He’ll need to do better, be better, and prove to Geralt he’s not just some unstable Cat he did a good turn for once. That he can be an ally the other can rely on.
Not just Geralt, Gaetan needs to be better and he wasn’t going to do it for himself.
Geralt offers Gaetan a tin of armor wax and a ‘spare’ needle and thread to start his repairs as the sun begins rising. Then he insists on checking his wound, before hesitantly declaring it free of infection. Gaetan bites his tongue before any accusations of being a mother hen can slip out. If he’d been there to ensure the caravan survivors were able to recover he’d want to be sure too.
He bites his tongue again when Geralt offers a portion of his own supplies, not proud enough to turn away charity when he needs it so badly. Though he does sneak the dried fruit back into the other witcher’s saddlebags when his back is turned.
They part as fellows, neither of them dead or dying. Gaetan decides it was well worth the wound in the end.