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“Can you drive a little slower?” Geralt asked through gritted teeth as Lambert took a turn too quickly, causing Geralt’s weight to shift and pain to scream through his injured shoulder.
“Do you want me to get you to the hospital before that bone starts to set on its own or don’t you?”
One of the downsides of accelerated healing was if bones weren’t set quickly enough, they began to heal improperly, making the setting process even more painful.
“That won’t matter if you drive us off the road before we even make it back into town,” Geralt grumbled.
“Oh hush, we’re almost there. Quit your whining.”
Only Lambert would tell someone with an injury as painful as Geralt’s to quit their whining, but Lambert had never been a big believer in bedside manner. Geralt told himself he needed to be grateful for him. If he’d been out on this hunt alone, he’d be driving himself to the hospital right now, and he had enough experience with that to know how miserable and dangerous it was. Still, he wished Lambert would drive a little more gently.
Against all odds and after what felt like about twelve hours, even though it was barely three, they made it to the hospital in one piece.
“Do you want me to stick around? Or can I go back and tie up all your loose ends?” Lambert asked.
The only reason there were any loose ends at all was because Lambert had messed up and left Geralt vulnerable, allowing the beast to deliver what would have been a death blow if Geralt hadn’t rolled out of the way at the last second. Instead of collapsing his rib cage it had only gotten his shoulder, but that had been more than enough. He’d been utterly incapacitated and they’d left for the emergency room as soon as Lambert finished killing the beast.
Geralt took a deep breath and reminded himself to never take a contract with Lambert again before he answered.
“Unless you want to pay for the cab fare to get all the way back to my place, you aren’t taking my truck until after I’m home.”
“Ugh, fine.” Lambert had the audacity to roll his eyes. Geralt would have hit him if he could move his torso without pain shooting through his injured arm.
Geralt walked into the emergency room, glad to see it wasn’t too crowded, and went and got the all too familiar intake paperwork. Although it was his left arm that was injured, even the small movements it took to write with his right hand caused him pain. He endured it though, rather than asking Lambert for help.
When the nurse came out to retrieve him, he wasn’t sure what he was more relieved about—that he would get his injury dealt with, or that he wouldn’t have to sit next to Lambert anymore.
“Geralt,” the nurse greeted him. “I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again,” she teased. It was fair to say that Geralt visited the emergency room more often than the average citizen. He was familiar with most of the nurses and this one, Angela, was one of his favorites. “What is it this time?” She asked. “Paper says shoulder. What are we thinking?” She spoke about it casually, as if she were asking Geralt about a dish he was cooking rather than a severe and painful injury he’d sustained. He enjoyed the rapport though. It helped to lighten the mood, and was a welcome change to Lambert’s borderline unbearable attitude.
“I’m thinking dislocation, a break, but I’m not quite sure where, and maybe a tear.”
“Ooh,” she gave him an exaggerated but still sympathetic expression. “Muscle or tendon?”
“Hmm,” he thought about this one for a moment. “Hard to say, but if I had to guess I’d say tendon.”
“Alright then. Let’s find out.”
***
Geralt took great pleasure in thinking of Lambert out in the waiting room, bored and impatient while Geralt went through the long and arduous process of getting enough diagnostic imaging done to figure out what the hell he’d managed to do to his shoulder.
After what seemed like hours, he finally got to learn that all of his suspicions were correct. The dislocation was obvious enough even without the imaging, but an x-ray and an MRI confirmed a break in his collarbone and a torn tendon. Really, he couldn’t have injured himself more thoroughly without tearing his arm clean off.
While he waited for the doctor to come back to relocate his shoulder and set his collarbone, he found himself trying and failing to think about anything other than the massive amount of pain he was in. It was enough to make him feel lightheaded and sick to his stomach. Geralt had sustained his fair share of injuries, and while this one was certainly less life threatening than some of them, it was one of the most painful ones he’d had in a while. How much longer until he could get that blessed anesthesia?
He was getting out his phone to check the time when his screen lit up.
A call from Yennefer.
Yes. The perfect distraction.
“Hello?”
“Geralt, where are you?” She sounded angry. Maybe he preferred the pain after all. “You were supposed to be here almost two hours ago and nobody’s even heard from you. What the hell?”
Geralt swore.
He’d completely forgotten he was supposed to go to Yennefer’s for dinner tonight.
He’d completely forgotten it was his birthday.
He had been so wrapped up in this contract, which had gone wrong in about a million different ways even before he got injured, and had ended up taking two days longer than planned, that he’d completely spaced his own birthday plans. It didn’t help that he’d kept his phone on silent and missed all the calls and texts which he now saw crowding his screen.
“I’m not going to make it to dinner. I’m at the ER right now. I should have called. I’m sorry.”
“Oh no Geralt. What did you do?” She sounded exasperated now, but not at him anymore which was a definite improvement.
“I messed up my shoulder pretty good, but I’m fine, really.” The last thing he wanted her to do was worry, especially since Ciri was staying with her right now, and she got anxious enough when Geralt went out on contracts. She didn’t need to make herself miserable over this now. He was miserable enough for all three of them.
“What hap—“ Yennefer began to ask, but just then the doctor returned, looking ready to set Geralt’s collarbone.
“Sorry Yen, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later okay?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer before he hung up. He was more than ready to get this bone set and his arm splinted and wrapped so he could go home. He didn’t want to wait a second longer than he had to.
***
Geralt’s mood lifted considerably once he was given a good strong dose of painkillers, and it lifted even more after Lambert dropped him off at home and he finally had his grumpy younger brother out of his hair.
Eskel had been staying at his place out in the country and taking care of the animals while he and Lambert had been away, but he’d left this morning, so at the moment Geralt had the house to himself.
He felt bad for missing dinner with Yen and Ciri, and had even considered stopping by once he was finished at the ER, but when all was said and done, he was too tired to do anything but go home and sit on his couch with an ice pack and whatever meal he could scrounge up with just one usable hand and a woefully under stocked pantry.
He was really good about keeping enough food in the house when he had Ciri staying with him, but she’d been with Yennefer for a week and a half now, and Geralt was in dire need of groceries.
But that was an errand for another day.
For now he decided he would let himself relax on the couch for a bit before undertaking the task of making himself a meal. But first he wanted out of these clothes.
This was easier said than done.
They’d had to cut himself out of his shirt at the ER, and had given him an almost comically oversized one to replace it once he could change out of the hospital gown. He decided changing shirts again wasn’t worth the trouble, but even just changing from his work pants to his sweatpants took him longer than he’d like to admit. Finally though, he had on something which at least resembled pajamas. It wasn’t his best look, but it would work.
He went back out to the living room and pulled out his phone to find another missed call from Yennefer and a text.
“Ciri really wants to talk to you. Please call back.”
Geralt felt a twinge of sadness. He hated to think Ciri was upset about this.
He really needed to take his phone off silent.
He was just about to call Yennefer back when he heard someone pulling into his driveway. This better not be Lambert, he thought to himself. I swear to the gods if I have to see him again before—
Someone knocked on the door.
Maybe it wasn’t Lambert. He could never be bothered to knock.
He opened the door to find Yennefer and Ciri. The former holding a birthday cake and the latter a basket of presents and cards.
Ciri’s initial reaction was to stare open mouthed at Geralt’s rather impressive splint and cast situation. She probably would have stayed like that for a while if not for Yennefer wishing him a happy birthday and then nudging Ciri to do the same.
“Happy birthday Geralt!” She said, still looking wary.
He pulled her in for a hug on his good side and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. By this reaction he would have guessed she hadn’t seen him in months, when in reality it had only been a week and a half. At least once she was in his arms—or arm, rather—she seemed to relax.
Yennefer stepped through the door and closed it behind her and Geralt leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, Ciri still attached to his side.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” he said, relieved that Yennefer didn’t look upset anymore. “I saw your message. I was just about to call when you knocked on the door.”
He gently unwrapped Ciri from his torso, taking her hand to replace the hug. He could tell she was still upset and he knew she wanted to be close to him. He led her over to the couch and Yennefer followed, setting the cake down on the table before going and retrieving the basket of presents Ciri had abandoned.
“This looks like a bit more than a messed up shoulder,” Yennefer observed, sitting down on the couch next to Geralt and Ciri. “What happened?”
“I took a rather unfortunate hit,” he answered, wanting to keep the story as palatable as possible for Ciri’s sake. “I broke my collarbone, tore a tendon, and dislocated my shoulder.”
Despite this sanitized version of the story, Ciri still seemed worried and upset. She looked like she might start crying which was the last thing Geralt wanted, especially if it was on his behalf.
“Does it hurt a lot?” She asked, eyes wide.
He shook his head. “It hurts a bit, but I’ll be good as new in a few weeks,” he reminded her. “Until then I’ll just get to relax at home.”
This placated her a little, kept her from crying at least, but it was his birthday after all and this felt more like a funeral than a party.
“So what’s all this?” He asked, motioning at the cake and presents. “What did you bring me?”
“We had a party for you but we had to send everyone home,” Ciri told him.
He gave Yen a questioning look.
“We had a surprise party planned for you. Everyone waited around until you finally answered your phone. They all told me to wish you a happy birthday though, and to get well soon. That’s where all the presents and cards are from.”
“The blue one is from me!” Ciri interjected. She pointed at one on the top of the basket wrapped in her trademark favorite sparkly blue.
“Oh, Ciri. I left the food out in the car. Can you go get it?” Yennefer asked.
Ciri nodded eagerly before scurrying back out the front door.
Once she was gone, Yennefer turned to him, her expression serious.
“Alright be honest, how do you really feel?”
Geralt let his cheeriness fade too now that he didn’t need to put a brave face on for his daughter.
“It’s bad, Yen. They gave me some painkillers at the hospital, but I haven’t been in this much pain in a long time,” he admitted.
“And how are you handling it?”
“I think I’m okay for the moment, but I’m sure I’m in for a pretty rough night.” He had enough experience to know that once the first round of painkillers and the anesthesia wore off he’d be hit with some of the worst pain yet. Tonight he wouldn’t have any adrenaline to help, or anything to distract him. That would be when the real misery would begin.
Yennefer stood up and walked behind the couch, resting her hands on the back of his neck and his good shoulder. She started gently probing the muscles there. He wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, sure they would just cause him more pain, but Yen knew exactly which muscles to manipulate and how to get him to release the near constant stress he held in his shoulders. When she did it now, he let out a sigh of relief as the muscles relaxed and took some of the pressure off his injured shoulder.
“Well Ciri was pretty worried,” Yennefer continued, as if unaware she was currently performing a miracle, “but now that she’s seen you and knows you’re alright we can head back home. We brought you some dinner, but it just needs to be heated up in the oven. I’m sure you won’t need us for that.”
“No.” He’d be in pain regardless of whether or not he was alone. At least this way he had a way to keep his mind off if. “Stay for dinner at least.”
“We’ll stay as long as you need Geralt, just let me know. And Jaskier is in town. I’m sure he’d be happy to take Ciri for a few days if you want me to stay and help get you through the worst of this.”
“That sounds perfect actually,” he told her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Before she could respond, Ciri came back inside with a dish of food, and Yennefer left to go put it in the oven and call Jaskier.
Ciri took back her spot next to Geralt on the couch.
“Look, we match,” she said, holding up her own left arm to show him a band-aid covering her elbow. He could see scabbed skin coming out from under the big band-aid. She’d scraped herself up pretty good.
“Oh no! What happened?”
This was enough prompting to get her to delve into a very long winded story about how she had crashed her bike trying to follow the neighbor boy down a hill. She didn’t wrap up her story until Yennefer emerged from the kitchen, putting her phone back in her pocket.
“I called Jaskier. He told me he’d take her in return for you telling him all the gory details of the contract.”
Geralt rolled his eyes.
“He also told me to tell you he’s serious, and he won’t agree to any more babysitting if you don’t follow through.”
“He adores her. He’d never be able to stick to that.”
“What?” Ciri asked, confused.
“You’re going to go stay with Jaskier for a few days. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” Yen asked.
“No!” She once again clung to Geralt. He pulled her up onto his lap and kissed her on the forehead. “I don’t want to go,” she protested.
“You don’t have to go anywhere yet,” he assured her. “You can stay here until bedtime, okay?”
The thought of getting to stay up past her bedtime was enough to placate her, at least for the moment.
“Now why don’t you go wash up,” Yen instructed. “Dinner is going to be ready in just a few minutes.”
Ciri obediently got up from Geralt’s lap and went to wash her hands, letting Yen resume tending to him without having to worry about frightening Ciri.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” She asked. “Anything I can get you?”
“An ice pack would be great,” he answered. “They’re on the top shelf of the freezer.”
She returned a few moments later with Geralt’s favorite ice pack and he gingerly put it on his shoulder.
“And I heated up the food because Ciri hasn’t eaten yet, but if you aren’t hungry I won’t be offended.”
“No, no. I’ll have some. I need to take advantage of this time when I feel alright. If I wait until later I’ll have missed my window.”
“I’m not sure if I understand what you’re talking about, but I’ll trust you.”
He waved her off with her good hand. “If you ever break your collarbone you’ll get it.”
She chuckled. “I think your painkillers are affecting your brain.”
“Maybe so.”
“If you need anything just let me know, okay? I mean it. Anything at all.”
Geralt nodded. “I will.”
“And if Ciri is bothering you, you have to tell her. You’re too lenient with her.”
Before he could defend himself, Ciri returned.
“Alright,” Yennefer stood. “Let’s have dinner.”
***
Jaskier, true to form, arrived late. By the time he made it out to Geralt’s house Ciri was out cold in Geralt’s lap and he was asleep too with one arm wrapped around her and his head leaned back against the couch cushions.
“Aww, well that’s just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Jaskier said.
“I’ve already got pictures,” Yen said. “Now it is way past her bedtime, so let’s get her in the car. I packed her a bag from the clothes she keeps here, so all we need to do is put the booster seat in your car.”
“She still uses a booster seat?” He asked. “I thought eight was too old for that sort of thing.”
“I’d really prefer if you didn’t remind me of your complete and utter lack of childcare knowledge right before I send my daughter home with you.”
“Hey, you’re the one who asked me—“ Their argument, although hushed, was enough to wake Geralt, and when he lifted his head to look at them, eyes still bleary with sleep, they both fell silent.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
“Geralt, it’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.” Jaskier grinned at his friend.
“That’s true. You look well though.”
“I wish I could say the same to you. Yennefer told you about the deal though, right? I want every detail.”
“Can we save this for later?” Yennefer asked. “It’s way past Ciri’s bedtime.
“I will postpone any other questions on one condition,” Jaskier said.
“And what’s that?” Yennefer replied, unimpressed.
“I get to take home a piece of that birthday cake.”
Yennefer just rolled her eyes.
“Hey, I came to the party,” Jaskier argued. “If Geralt would have shown up I would have gotten my piece of cake then. It’s not my fault he bailed.”
“I didn’t bail, I had to go to the hospital.”
“Either way. I was expecting cake and I didn’t get any.”
“If I wrap you up a piece of cake will you be quiet? You’re going to wake Ciri.” Yennefer reprimanded.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Now go get the booster seat from Geralt’s truck and—“
“Lambert still has my truck.”
Yennefer sighed and went to retrieve her keys from her purse. “Go get the one from my car and put it in yours. And take her bag while you’re at it.”
Geralt sat, contentedly watching Ciri sleep against his chest while the two of them got ready to go. It would be better to do his recuperating without a child underfoot, but still he would miss her.
Even though she was already small for her age, she seemed even younger in sleep. It was moments like this that reminded him that she was his whole world.
Jaskier had better take good care of her.
He and Yennefer returned at the same time, Jaskier with keys in hand and Yennefer with a slice of cake and a sheet of paper covered in her scrawling handwriting.
“I’ve written down everything you should need to know on here, but if you have any questions call me. And her bedtime is eight. She’ll try to tell you otherwise, but don’t let her convince you.”
“Okay okay, I won’t.”
“Alright,” Yennefer conceded. “Do you have any more questions?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then you’d better get going.”
Yennefer walked back over to Geralt and held her hands out for Ciri. Geralt shifted and Yen picked her up. Ciri woke up mid transfer, looking around sleepy and confused.
“What?” She mumbled.
“Jaskier is here. You’re going to go stay with him at his house.”
“No,” Ciri whined. “I want Geralt.” She reached back out for him and Yennefer leaned over so he could kiss her on the forehead.
“I love you. I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”
“Okay,” she conceded, still pouting. “I love you too.” She rubbed her eyes. It was adorably clear that she was fighting just to stay awake in Yennefer’s arms. He doubted she’d make it five minutes in the car before falling back asleep.
“Ready?” Jaskier asked.
“Ready.”
***
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll go back to sleep,” Yennefer asked once Jaskier and Ciri left.
Geralt gave her a cold, humorless laugh. “I wish I could be so lucky,” he commiserated. “If I had to guess, I’d say that’s the best sleep I’m going to get all night.”
Yennefer sighed. “For both of our sakes, I hope that’s not the case.”
Whether it was a self fulfilling prophecy, a good guess based on past experience, or just bad luck, he didn’t get more than a half hour of sleep at a time for the rest of the night.
By three a.m. he was so miserable he felt like he could cry. He shifted and adjusted the pillow supporting his lower back, trying and failing to get comfortable.
“I’m sorry, Geralt. Is there anything I can do?” Yennefer asked. She sat next to him on the couch wearing a pair of his pajama shorts with the drawstrings pulled tight and one of his t-shirts, since she hadn’t brought anything with her.
“Can I take any more painkillers?” he asked.
Yennefer consulted the clock on her phone, the light briefly illuminating her face. “Not yet. You can take another dose at five.”
“Can you get a fresh ice pack then?”
“Of course my love.”
When she returned with the ice pack, she handed it to Geralt and sat down on the arm of the couch, brushing away the strands of hair which were stuck to his forehead with sweat before rubbing his neck like she’d done before.
“Thanks Yen,” he said, yawning.
“Has this convinced you to stop taking contracts?” she asked. She’d been trying to convince him to give up Witchering for years now, bothering him about it every time he got injured.
He could turn his little farm into a full time job if he wanted to, but both of them knew he’d never do it. He liked being a Witcher too much—although in moments like this, he’d be lying if he said the idea wasn’t tempting.
“You know I can’t do that,” he replied.
“Well what has it convinced you of then?”
He thought about this for a long moment, while Yen climbed off the arm of the couch and curled up on the cushion at the other end. She looked angelic, even with the ill fitting pajamas and an expression which looked almost as exhausted as he felt.
“It convinced me that I have the best partner in the world,” he answered.
This earned him a smile and a tired laugh. “Yeah, those painkillers are definitely affecting your brain.”
“No, I mean it,” he said, his words slurring together slightly with his exhaustion. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Geralt,” she said, closing her eyes. “Now try and get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay.”
He didn’t get some sleep, but the rest of the night wasn’t all bad. He might be nauseous, and achy, and in pain, but he had Yennefer here taking care of him, and she wasn’t going to leave him any time soon.
He knew living with her full time was a bad idea, and both of them were happier having their own separate lives, but nights like this made him wish things were different.
It wasn’t good for him to wish for this—he’d learned that a long time ago—but in the moment, he let the thought of it comfort him.
And for the moment, that was enough.