A/N: Bonus present for the same friend as my previous fic, who is also responsible for getting me into The Witcher.

The walk back from the Unseen's cave seems shorter than the walk there.

It isn't far now to the boat. Geralt braces himself on a boulder to take a steep step off a rocky ledge, clutching tighter as the loose gravel at the bottom snatches at his balance. His head's still spinning, some combination of blood loss and readjusting to normal gravity again, and he doesn't trust himself to take the jump freely yet.

Behind him, Regis takes the same step as smoothly as if he were a kestrel gliding on air. Should the vampire wish, he could turn to mist and be back at the boat in a heartbeat, yet he seems reluctant to leave the Witcher's side. Geralt knows why.

"You hear any of that back there?" Geralt asks without glancing at him. "Or was he keeping you completely out of it?"

"Some of it I heard," comes the reply. "Though my perception was distorted. It seemed...distant, as if I were viewing it in a dream or perhaps through a faraway spyhole, a passive observer unable to influence events. Parts of it may not even have been real, though in hindsight, I suspect I can distinguish which were. I heard you address the Unseen."

"Yeah. Didn't go down well," Geralt admits gruffly. He can imagine what Regis made of it, the naive Witcher walking in with swaggering hubris and threatening an Elder vampire.

"I thought your arrogance would be the death of you. When he attacked you, your heartbeat became terribly faint. For a time, I ceased hearing it completely. I feared…" Regis' voice turns quiet. "I feared you were gone."

Something tightens in Geralt's chest. "For a moment, so did I. I underestimated him. Won't make the same mistake again."

Despite the healing potion, he's still bleeding. It's slowed considerably in the past hour, but a steady trickle of red continues to seep from the bite in his neck. Enough to be a concern.

Their footsteps turn to the crunch of sand and pebbles as they reach the beach, then faint splashing as Geralt enters the water. Regis clambers aboard the boat tethered nearby and watches as the Witcher begins to untie the moorings. "Geralt," he says. "I appreciate that time is of the essence, but may I suggest that we wait a while for you to regain your strength before we approach Tesham Mutna? If Dettlaff refuses to listen to reason, I would not wish for you to face him in your current state."

"Not really an option," Geralt says, joining him aboard the boat. "While vampires continue to ravage Beauclair, we don't have time to lose. I'll be fine."

"Perhaps, but if it's still possible to resolve this without further violence, I should like to try. Dettlaff has already been driven to a frenzy. The blood coming from your neck may only serve to aggravate him further."

Geralt unfurls the sail and takes a seat at the helm. As they begin to drift away from the shore, he touches the wound, fingers coming away coated crimson. "It's healing," he says, reaching for the pouch on his belt and taking out a small glass vial. "Slower than usual, but by the time we reach the mainland, the bleeding will have stopped." He gulps down the potion then puts the empty bottle away.

From the opposite end of the boat, Regis studies him closely. "Vampire venom encourages bleeding, prevents the blood from adequately clotting. Your potion may not be as effective as you've come to expect." He stands and takes the few short paces to where Geralt is sat, reaching out a hand towards the Witcher. "May I?"

Geralt looks up at him, then tilts his head, allowing Regis to examine the wound. The vampire's fingers tenderly probe the bite, then he reaches into his tunic and pulls out a white handkerchief which he uses to wipe away the still-slick blood. For just a heartbeat, the smell of it is intoxicating. It calls to something inside Regis, a dark and primal urge overwhelming him with the desire to taste it, then he forces himself to look at Geralt's face. He listens to the deep, bassy thump of his friend's heart, recalls the grief he'd felt when he thought it had stopped, and the temptation dies inside him. He won't betray Geralt's trust.

Regis leans in to inspect the damage more closely. There's bruising, but the punctures are beginning to pucker and close up, though small amounts of plasma still ooze from the holes. "Your assessment appears accurate," Regis says. "By the time we reach shore, I expect the bleeding will have stopped." His thumb moves to Geralt's chin, gently tilts his head in the other direction so Regis can press his fingers to the artery in his throat. "The venom also stimulates the heartbeat, though its effects are short lived. After the first minute or so, one can expect to experience a crash."

"Think I already had the crash," Geralt grunts. "Nearly killed me."

"Yes, though you are recovering. Your pulse is elevated, weaker than usual, but it will sustain you."

"So we proceed as planned?"

"That is entirely your call." Regis steps away, sits down at the far end of the boat again.

"We'll go," Geralt says gruffly, looks out at the moonlight shining on the water and the town in the distance, then back at Regis again. "Though, I appreciate your concern."

Geralt thinks he sees a smile flicker on the vampire's lips. "Don't mention it."