Where I Stand

Joined Hearts, Joined Hands

"Lambert."

All at once the other witcher's face crumbles and he makes a choked sort of sound before throwing himself towards the bars.

"Aiden."

Aiden is already scrambling to meet him, and they come together in a desperate embrace, both reaching through the bars as best they can to hold each other. Lambert clings to him like a lifeline. Aiden's knees give way as he buries his face in the crook of the other man's neck, breathing in the smell of him—not the chemical and metallic scent of Teldrin's laboratory or the vacant sterile environment of his cell, but something real and tangible. The scent of home. Of Lambert.

"Aiden," Lambert sobs, clutching him like a child would its doll. Strong arms wrap around his back and neck, tucking Aiden's head under his chin as Lambert breathes deep, heaving gasps of air. "Aiden, Aiden, fuck. It's okay, I've found you, I've got you."

Tears are streaming down both their cheeks when Aiden pulls away far enough to see the other man's face. "Lambert," another sob escapes him as Aiden cups the witcher's face in his hands. He rubs his thumbs on Lambert's cheekbones, down his neck—trying to convince himself that this is real, that this is actually happening.

Before he can say another word however, Lambert is kissing him breathless, holding Aiden just as tightly with trembling fingers and sliding their mouths together with frenzied desperation. In the end it's more violent than it is enjoyable, and pretty wet from the tears, but Aiden doesn't give a single fuck, because all that matters is that it's Lambert and he's here, and Aiden's not alone anymore.

"I knew you'd come," he breathes as they pull apart. "I knew you'd find me."

Something in Lambert's face falls. Aiden watches him swallow slowly, and something painful twists in his chest.

Oh. Lambert must still be upset.

Seeing Aiden's hesitation, the other witcher offers him a faint smile. "How do I get you out of here?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. There's no door, and the bars won't give."

Lambert hums, standing as he detaches himself from Aiden. "Okay. I have an idea; I'll be right back."

"Wait—Lambert what's—"

"Right. Back." Lambert points at him, holding his gaze for a moment, then disappears around the corner.

When he returns, his arms hold a pile of things-- a clay jar, some sort of powder, a roll of twine, and a few alchemical items. Lambert starts hastily assembling them together, shoving components into the jar and tucking the twine around it--

It's a bomb, Aiden realizes about halfway through. The other witcher's specialty.

"Okay," Lambert says, placing the finished bomb against the cell bars. "Stand in the back corner, cast Quen."

Aiden nods, quickly doing as he says and Lambert lights the fuse with a weak Igni before putting up his own shield. The bomb explodes with a deafening bang leaving a cloud of dust and debris in its wake. Once his vision clears, Aiden is able to see that it not only mangled the cell bars beyond repair, but also blew out half of the nearby wall.

He steps out of the ruined cell on trembling legs, and heaves a deep breath.

He's free, finally free after all this time. A fresh wave of tears pricks at his eyes and suddenly Lambert's right there, wrapping his arms around Aiden and cradling him like something precious.

"Thank you," Aiden chokes into Lambert's shoulder, hands scrambling over the other witcher's back, palming and grabbing at him, making sure he doesn't disappear.