Chapter Text
Yennefer curses vehemently as she almost slips on the thawing ice. Although today is the first day of spring, the weather has not caught up yet. She regrets her optimistic outfit: a short dress, purple coat and heels to show off her legs. She'd chosen the ensemble yesterday evening thinking it might give her an advantage at work, like it usually would. It hadn't.
She steadies herself and shoulders her purse. These backstreet alleys haven't been cleared of the slush and although she's grateful for the privacy they offer, she sometimes wishes her clients were of the more honourable and out-in-the-open kind so she could spend more time in the beautiful city centre of Aretuza.
It is a quiet morning with a brilliant orange sun rising to chase away the lingering darkness of the night and a deal gone sour. It wasn't her fault. Her client had just needed to know his place. A little show of force, to demonstrate what she had thought of his offer. There had been no reason for her client to fight back, nor had she wanted him to. He had clearly been outmanned, the back-up that Geralt had arranged for her should have prevented any attempts at violence from either side and ensure a smooth transition of goods. Instead, when her client had scoffed at her counteroffer, Cahir had immediately thrown him into the wall and gone to town. He hadn't drawn his gun, but his fists had kept battering into her client, even after he had gone down.
Yennefer grimaces at the memory and touches her face, now washed clear of the spray of blood. Was it too early to start drinking? She had called Geralt while still at the scene to tell him what happened, her eyes trained on Cahir as she talked. He had asked to speak to Cahir, and she saw his face grow pale as Geralt gave him instructions on how to deal with the body. Questions would be asked, and Yennefer couldn't be part of that. She had promised to call him back later, but for now, she needed to get out of here.
With a slight shake of her head and a muttering of "get a grip, Yennefer", she continues on her way, heels clicking on the cobblestones. Lost in thought, she crosses into the town proper. Little hipster coffee shops have popped up left and right over the past few years and the slightly bitter aroma does little to wake her from her reverie. Neither does the voice that calls to her from the distance.
Not until she actually sees the person crying out to her. It's a woman, kneeling next to a man lying on the cold stones. For a moment she sees her client, the eye that hasn't been battered shut staring unseeing at the heavens.
But this body is still moving, convulsing and gasping – no, choking for breath. "Call an ambulance!" The cry pierces her brain and with numb fingers Yennefer pulls out her phone and dials the number. "Put in on speaker, please," the woman says. For such a short stature she carries a lot of authority, Yennefer muses, carefully avoiding the man on the ground and keeping her gaze on the woman. The woman talks at her phone, but Yennefer doesn't hear it. She's trying too hard to not look at the body – no, the man. From her periphery she sees his movements have slowed. It has gone quiet.
"Hey! You! Get that AED." Yennefer focusses her attention on the finger pointing towards the AED in the distance. With sudden clarity she kicks of her heels and makes a run for it, intensely relieved to not be needed right here but still capable of helping.
She dashes over to yellow device, clumsy fingers scraping at the outer casing. How many seconds is it taking her to get it undone? Too many, undoubtedly. In frustration she punches at the hard plastic shell, and it cracks under the force. Like the face of – no. No! Not now. She grabs the AED and sprints back to the woman who has started chest compressions.
"Great. Do you know how to use it?"
"I – no, I…"
"That's okay. Can you take over from me? It's not hard, just take a moment to look at what I'm doing." The woman keeps going while she's talking, not looking at Yennefer.
Yennefer drops to her knees on the other side of the man, breathing in shakily. "Okay."
"Now, when I reach thirty, I want you to take over, can you do that?"
"Okay," she says again. She holds her hands at the ready while the woman keeps count steadily. She glances at the face of the man. His eyes are closed, and his head rolls from left to right and back with every compression.
"Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty." Yennefer's body moves like a puppet on strings. "A little deeper. That's it." She is unaware of the woman moving around, placing the electrodes on his chest. "Keep going." It is heavy work. It didn't look that hard when the woman was doing it, but she's starting to feel her shoulders, and her bare knees grind on the frigid stones beneath her. "You're doing great."
The yellow device is talking at them. Yennefer doesn't understand what it is saying. Something gives way under her interlaced hands, like pushing through something, like something snapping. She watches as a drop of sweat drips down from her nose onto the man.
Warm, small hands encircle her wrists and she's pushed back. "Don't touch him now. Take a breath, darling," the woman says. For a moment she looks into the eyes on the opposite side of the man. Dark blue. Intense. Calm, collected. Grounding.
The moment is gone as the woman refocuses her attention, taking over from Yennefer again. Taking over his breath and heart. Time seems to pass in a blur as they take turns until finally they are ushered aside by two men dressed in bright reflective clothing. When had they arrived?
The woman talks to another one of them as the unconscious man is put on a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance. She blinks, and they are gone. Suddenly, the absence of sirens and the beep of the AED is deafening.
"Are you alright?"
"What?" Yennefer looks up at the woman standing in front of her, a hand stretched out to help her up. When had she sat down? She takes her hand and is pulled up, surprised by the strength of this small woman.
"Thank you for your help. You were absolutely brilliant." The woman wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, breathing heavily. "What is your name?"
"Yennefer," she replies before she can stop herself.
"Well, Yennefer. I think that thanks to you his chances to survive have gone way up. Thank you for staying and helping me."
Yennefer frowns, not quite trusting her voice to say anything more.
"Look, normally I would stay and talk this through with you, but I am a little late for my shift." The woman rummages through her backpack and takes out a notepad and a pen, scribbling something down. "I would recommend you talk to someone, and er… Well, if you like, that could be me."
The bitter morning breeze picks up and chills Yennefer to her core, feeling like the slight sheen of sweat from the exertion is freezing over. The face of the woman in front of her turns a little red as well as she tears off a page and hands it over.
Yennefer reaches out to take it, and is surprised when the woman doesn't let go. "You have a little blood on your hand there," she says. The chill of the wind is nothing compared to the ice she feels in her heart. "You must have worked really hard right now."
Yennefer stares at their hands, and the piece of paper she's holding. Tissaia, it reads, and a phone number. She looks up, and sees the gentle smile. A part of the ice melts and she manages a smile herself.
Tissaia disentangles their hands and takes a step back. "Sorry. I really have to go. But I would love to hear from you."
Yennefer nods, and watches her walk over to her bicycle. She forces herself to breathe in. And out. A life for a life.