“It is a privilege to be allowed to care for you, Jaskier, to be trusted with such an important task.” He looked back up, meeting Jaskier’s eyes with a breath-taking sincerity. “I would like the chance to earn that back… if you would allow it.” He held out one of his hands, far enough away that it didn’t send a spike of panic up his spine, his other hand holding the small tin of salve.
His eyes caught on Geralt’s hand, usually still and steady in every situation, now a slight tremble, barely noticeable, as he waited for his response. And it was that that punched a breath out of his lungs, shaking as it left his slightly parted lips.
Geralt was nervous too. The White Wolf, the mighty witcher. He was nervous.
“It is a privilege to be allowed to care for you, Jaskier, to be trusted with such an important task.” He looked back up, meeting Jaskier’s eyes with a breath-taking sincerity. “I would like the chance to earn that back… if you would allow it.” He held out one of his hands, far enough away that it didn’t send a spike of panic up his spine, his other hand holding the small tin of salve.
His eyes caught on Geralt’s hand, usually still and steady in every situation, now a slight tremble, barely noticeable, as he waited for his response. And it was that that punched a breath out of his lungs, shaking as it left his slightly parted lips.
Geralt was nervous too. The White Wolf, the mighty witcher. He was nervous.
Jaskier ground his teeth together. He wanted to look away. He knew he needed to. Turn his focus to something else, think about anything at all other than the fear and the pain and the heat, because if he didn’t, he’d fall into another panic, showing Geralt that he wasn’t capable of being out here again. That he was just one wrong step from completely falling apart, and he had made the wrong choice in dragging him out of that fucking cell in Oxenfurt.
But he couldn’t look away.
He knew it didn’t make sense. He was sure that this was real. The dwarves, the ground, the horses. He was out of that tavern, his wrists were free, and the fire was just a fire.
But if he looked away…
If he gave it a chance, it could change. His mind could change it for him, like it had before. If he closed his eyes, if he looked away, those phantom binds could wrap around his wrists again, his mind could make it feel like the campfire was being held in those long fingers, a cruel grin illuminated behind it, getting closer and closer. He’d believe it, like he had back in the pool, unable to escape from the visions, the voices, and Geralt would send him away.
So he wouldn’t give it the chance. He wouldn’t let his mind slip. Not for one second.
Just watch. Don’t blink. Don’t look away. You’re stronger than this, Jask. You’re stronger than some stupid fucking fi-
Then, an owl hooted somewhere in the dark, out past the trees, and a branch snapped. Geralt could hear well enough that it was obviously an animal, a rat or something skittering up a tree, nothing to be concerned over, but Jaskier woke again, the same frantic pounding of his heart and that scent of sour panic. He gathered the blanket tightly around him. Geralt could see the tension of his muscles, practically shaking with effort to stay completely still. He breathed shallow and quick, and the faint smell of salt tinged the air.
Geralt frowned. He didn’t want to startle Jaskier more by speaking, or trying to somehow comfort him with a touch. He was still unsettled by the way he had reacted earlier when he’d been trying to work on his hand, thrashing and shouting with panic. He wasn’t sure if Jaskier would even want his help, if he’d feel like it was just being given out of pity or guilt. Geralt glanced at Jaskier from out of the corner of his eye. He was still huddled in the blanket. Maybe he should just pretend he hadn’t noticed that he’d woken up again. Surely, he would ask if he needed something, wouldn’t he? Geralt’s frown deepened.
While he was overthinking, Jaskier turned onto his back, heaving out a heavy breath, and glared up at the sky. Geralt glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow, but stayed quiet, still unsure of what Jaskier wanted of him. After another moment, Jaskier heaved an even more dramatically heavy breath, and Geralt decided that probably meant he was open to some sort of conversation.
“Are you alright?”
Jaskier cocked his head sideways, narrowing his heavy eyes at him. Geralt could smell… something. Something off lingering under the scent of soap, not quite sickly, but not well either.
“I can’t sleep.”
Geralt huffed, his other eyebrow raising minutely. “I noticed.”
Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I know you have something you want to say, so just say it.”
Geralt huffed, giving another small shake of his head before speaking. “I’m bringing you back to Oxenfurt in the morning.”
Jaskier felt his breath catch in his throat, a wave of nausea twisting in his stomach.
“He doesn’t need you. He’s just waiting for the right moment to get rid of you again. You’re weak. You’re broken. Useless.”
The nightmare Yennefer voice echoed in his head as he felt his chest squeeze tighter, heart racing like it had back all that time ago on that stupid mountain. He shook his head, mentally cursing that stupid voice and those gut-wrenching words.
“No.”
“Jask-“
“No, Geralt.” He bit the insides of his cheeks, frustrated, anger and fear and helplessness roiling in his stomach, his neck itching as the emotions worked up through his spine.
“If life could give me one blessing-”
He cut off Geralt’s voice in his head before the memory could finish playing out.
“Are you going to join me? I could imagine you could probably use a wash too,” Jaskier asked innocently, his voice shaking. Geralt couldn’t tell if it was nerves or if he was still working off the shivering of the cold, but it got his heart squeezing again. The temptation was there, that want to soothe away that quiver in his words, but he couldn’t. He needed to prioritize, make sure they were safe, find them a place to sleep, collect firewood, find something for them to eat, figure out how he was going to find Ciri, where Yennefer would go, why she would take Ciri, but then Jaskier was looking at him through those heavy lids, his pupils wide, the soothing warmth of the pool easing the tension of his broad shoulders. Jaskier shifted, reaching out with one hand, a soft smile on his face. Inviting. Trusting. “Come on. Just for a few minutes.”
And Geralt wanted. Gods, did he. He yearned. Ached.
Another sound, and yes, he was sure now. It was a snap. There was no question in his head that was what it was. He whipped his head around again, finding nothing.
“Uh, h-hello?” He stuttered, hating the sound of the words coming out of his mouth. This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening again. “Someone there?”
Fingers snapped to the left of his head, much closer now. Too close. He ground his teeth together looking to the source, or where the source should have been. There was nothing there. He knew there should have been something there in that empty space that taunted him, but nothing. No fingers, no fire. It wasn’t real. It’s not real. It can’t be real. He shook his head, ignoring the shaking of his hands, the chatter of his nervous teeth, his breaths coming quick and shallow now.
“Please,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes closed, grinding his teeth together, willing his mind to pull back to reality.
This isn’t happening. You’re safe. He’s not here. You’re out. You’re alive. The thoughts came quick, ghosting across the panicked blaze surging in his mind, doing little to dampen the waves of fear.
Summary: When Yennefer flees the temple of Melitele with his child surprise, Geralt seeks help from his old friend, Jaskier, who was left feeling broken and untethered after Geralt’s dismissal. After becoming the Sandpiper, running into Yennefer, and getting tortured, Geralt finds him in the jail cell, bruised and burned and, just a little bit, angry. Jaskier makes sure Geralt listens to what he has to say, before they leave Oxenfurt, traveling together to track down Ciri and Yennefer who are going through an experience of their own with Voleth Meir. Their journey is the healing that they need to fix the broken pieces of their relationship and deal with their recent traumas together.
Chapter 2 Excerpt
“-think that after so many incredibly popular songs, that you would have to be a fucking corpse buried ten feet under the ground not to know who I am?! I mean, honestly, you could walk into any tavern on the Continent and sing two words of Toss a Coin and everybody would be able to sing along and praise my wonderfully pervasive name for delivering such a masterful piece of work unto the world…AND YET, those two gate-guarding nobodies have never EVER heard of me!? It’s downright unbelievable, an insult of the highest-” He continued shouting, the injuries to his chest seemingly ineffective at slowing the ranting down by much, though there was a slight breathlessness to his speech.
“You do realize that we were trying not to get recognized, right?” Geralt said trying to interrupt him enough that Jaskier would have to take a breath, which only earned him an irritated huff and an eyes in return.
