Here and Now

CW: PTSD, flashbacks

Training was fun for the first time in years. Cahir didn’t have to keep up appearances, didn’t have to be perfect. If he was tired, sloppy, lost a bout, it simply didn’t matter. Truth be told, he lost more bouts than won by a long stretch but that was to be expected when going against a witcher. But he was learning again, allowed to make mistakes, permitted to be a fallible human without consequences. Nobody challenged his authority, rode the momentary gloating fame of beating the White Flame’s chosen one.

In fact, after all that had happened, it was during training that Cahir had laughed for the first time in too long. He loved the secluded freedom Kaer Morhen offered, along with the friendships that were motivated purely on the desire of his company rather than the favours and social standing he could offer.

That wasn’t to say life was a smooth ride. Cahir couldn’t bring himself to go into the armoury or the pantry, the rooms too small and the doors had a knack for slamming shut. The one time Lambert had tried to playfully ruffle his hair, Cahir forgot how to breathe, the phantom echoes of fingers pressing against his scalp and tearing through his mind wrenched to the forefront of his thoughts. That evening Lambert had gifted him a hat, saying it would give a bit more protection because he’d managed to weave dimeritium laced thread through it.

Apart from such small hiccoughs, things were fine. Cahir happily clashed blades with Eskel, the familiarity of the weight in his palm, the ringing of steel against steel, it was all a way to relax. When his body was tired his mind didn’t have as much time to dwell on the past. It worked out just fine really.

So caught up in such thoughts, Cahir missed a parry and the world went spinning. There was a tight weight on his wrist as his sword went flying and he was forced to his knees, defenceless and restrained. Breath coming shallow, Cahir couldn’t remember where he was or why. All he could think about was how his wrist ached behind his back, how he was helpless to do anything as he was knelt in front of an audience. Even if it was a different group, Vesemir, Lambert, Geralt were all watching and Eskel was behind him with a sword. The why of it all eluded Cahir but Eskel was a good man. And if he agreed that Cahir needed to be beheaded then it had to be a damn good reason. It wasn’t as if anyone could call Cahir a good guy by any stretch of the imagination. No, he probably deserved it. All Cahir could think of was that at least it was Eskel. He was strong, had a sharp blade and was fair. At least he wouldn’t make Cahir suffer by needing to take several swings to carry out the punishment. The last thing Cahir wanted to was to make it more difficult for Eskel. Not like there was much he could do but he tried. Bending his head, he gave Eskel a clear view of his neck and held his breath. He wasn’t going to cry. That wouldn’t be fair on poor Eskel.

For some reason, the blow never came.

The reason was pretty obvious as far as Eskel was concerned. They’d been fighting, he saw an opportunity and took it like so many bouts begore. But never before had Cahir crashed to his knees like that, rigid yet pliant in the worst of ways. The sudden drop in Cahir’s heartrate was as terrifying as he shallow breaths and the haunted, distant gaze before Cahir’s eyes scrunched shut. Somehow that wasn’t even the worst of it. The sword fell from Eskel’s hand as he saw Cahir bend his head, revealing the vulnerable part of his neck in a blatant invitation.

“Cahir?” Eskel’s voice didn’t shake as he slowly walked round to face Cahir. Kneeling down, there was no reaction to his presence except a fine tremor that ran through Cahir. The sour stench of terror permeated the air and Eskel’s face fell. He didn’t expect to be shouldered out of the way by Lambert who plopped down in front of Cahir without explanation.

“Okay, Cahir, buddy,” he said as if it was an everyday conversation they were having, “I don’t need you to talk yet but nod if you can hear me.”

After a moment of tense silence there was a minute nod and Eskel tried not to think how that showed a bit more of Cahir’s neck.

“Good. Again, just nod or shake your head. Do you know where you are?”

A hesitant nod followed by a shake of head. Cahir knew who he was with but not where and why. It was all a bit of a blurry haze.

“That’s okay. You’re in Kaer Morhen. Came here about two moons ago. Do you know who I am?”

“Lambert.” Cahir’s voice was a soft whisper, barely more than a breathless exhale.

“Good. I am indeed the asshole Lambert. Next to me is-”

“Eskel,” Cahir cut in.

“Excellent.” Slowly Lambert extended a hand along the ground until he was certain Cahir would be able to see it. “Can you tell me what’s in front of you?”

There was a frown on Cahir’s face as he squinted at the ground in front of him, arms still behind his back, head bent. “A hand?”

“That’s it! Now, think you can follow it?” Slowly Lambert began to pull his hand back towards himself as Cahir tracked it first with his eyes then had to move his head. It was almost painfully slow, especially as Lambert began to raise his hand until it was next to his own head. But he smiled softly at Cahir who blinked at him in confusion. “There you are.”

“What?” Cahir’s arms fell limply to his side and he swayed, colour rapidly draining from an already pale face.

“You’re okay,” Lambert replied softer than the others had ever heard him before. “Just got a bit confused for a moment, lost in time. But you’re here in Kaer Morhen, you’re safe. What we’ll do is take you to the kitchen, okay? Eskel will carry you. And we’ll have a nice warm drink, maybe a small snack too. Okay?”

Still obviously confused, Cahir gave an obedient little “okay” which was all Eskel needed before scooping him up and holding him close to his chest. Murmurs of “you scared me” and “I’d never hurt you” were easy enough to hear. Lambert followed behind them and gave Vesemir a wry grin when their mentor fell in line with him.

“You were curiously well-versed.”

Lambert shrugged. “Got a friend. He gets like that sometimes.”

An eyebrow was cocked at Lambert as Vesemir read between the lines.

“Maybe you should bring him along next year. If he’s such a good friend.”

The grin on Lambert’s lips turned into something truly happy and excited. “Maybe I will. It’s been a while since Kaer Morhen had some pussy.”

The smack to the back of his head was worth it though and Lambert laughed as Vesemir shook his own in mock disappointment. “Just bring your damn Cat.”