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Geralt loved hiking. He had also raised Ciri to love hiking, and at the beginning of their relationship, he’d tried to get Yennefer to love hiking. And he had failed miserably. Still, he and Ciri often tried to convince her to come out with them, but they had never succeeded. Until now.
Ciri was out of school for spring break and Yennefer had thought it would be a good idea to take some time off work and spend the week together as a family. Much to her dismay, this meant staying out at Geralt’s, since he needed to be home to tend to his animals. And today it meant going on a hike.
Geralt knew she didn’t want to be here, but he’d hoped he and Ciri might be able to change her mind. Unfortunately, as the day went on this seemed like less and less of a possibility.
This fear was confirmed right when they hit the two mile mark of their three mile hike.
It was cloudy and cold, and the trail was still muddy from heavy winter rains. The mud hadn’t caused too many problems—although he’d had to carry Ciri across some of the worst parts so she could keep her socks dry—but as they made their way down a hill, Yennefer slipped, falling hard on her right ankle. Geralt winced as he heard a sickening pop and Yennefer cried out in pain.
“I’m fine,” she said before Geralt even had the chance to ask, but she yelped and sat back down in the mud as soon as she put weight on her ankle.
“Don’t get up,” he instructed.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, the grimace on her face letting him know she was lying. “I just need a minute.”
Geralt knelt down next to her and Ciri peered over his shoulder.
“Here,” he said, “put your leg out straight.”
She stretched her right leg out in front of her and Geralt moved to unlace her boot, but she swatted his hand away.
“I just want to check and make sure it’s alright,” he said.
“I told you I just need a minute.” She looked up at the trees, avoiding eye contact, and Geralt could see tears welling in her eyes. “Gods, I am never going hiking with you again.”
“You don’t mean that,” Geralt teased.
She met his gaze again, and the tears in her eyes were in direct opposition to the fierce glare she gave him. Perhaps this wasn’t the right time for teasing.
He gave her a minute to sit, not antagonizing her anymore, but after the minute passed and she still made no move to stand up again, Geralt moved in. Her protests resumed as he scooped her up into his arms, but with less vigor than before.
“Put me down. I can walk,” she insisted.
Geralt was glad to see Ciri giggling at her mother’s admittedly entertaining protests rather than worrying. Geralt wasn’t too worried either, but he did want to check out Yen’s ankle before she tried putting weight on it again.
“Just let me take you the rest of the way. I know it hurts Yen. Let me do this for you.”
“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms, “but I’m telling you, nothing’s wrong.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” he lied. “I just want to make sure.”
This was enough to get her to stop arguing, but she held onto her displeased expression for the whole rest of the hike.
It took longer than he would have liked to navigate through the last muddy mile with her in his arms and Ciri in tow, but finally they made it back to the parking lot. He set her down on the curb and handed Ciri the keys to his truck.
“Can you go turn the heat on?” he asked.
She nodded eagerly and took the keys, climbing up into the front seat and starting the car.
“You let her start your car?” Yennefer asked, incredulous. “Geralt, she’s eight years old.”
“She can’t reach the pedals Yen, it’s fine. All she’s doing is turning a key. Do you not let her unlock your house?” he replied.
“You are absolutely ridiculous.”
“You’ll thank me when you don’t have to freeze your toes off halfway to the emergency room.”
“If you think I’m going to go to the emergency room,” she argued, but she stopped short as he once again started to unlace her boot. “Ow!”
“Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” He loosened up the laces as much as he could without removing them entirely before cautiously sliding the boot off, exercising the same caution as he took off her sock. Yennefer’s anti-emergency room argument was further weakened when Geralt rolled up her pant leg, revealing the whole joint. It was swollen considerably and the skin was tight and red.
“Tell me what hurts,” Geralt instructed. He gently probed the side of her ankle and she spoke up immediately, her voice measured but tense. He continued around the rest of the joint, and her words confirmed his suspicions that the outside edge of the ankle was tender and inflamed.
Ciri was back now and once again peering over Geralt’s shoulder.
“Come sit with me,” Yennefer patted the curb next to her, no doubt wanting to set her at ease. The last thing either of them wanted was for her to worry. Ciri went to sit next to her and offered her mother her hand. Yennefer took it, keeping it in hers as Geralt continued his examination of her ankle.
He took her heel in one hand, holding her calf in the other, and began slowly rotating the joint. It could move back and forth just fine, but an attempt to roll it to the side triggered a sharp intake of breath from Yen.
“Wait here a second,” he instructed. Ciri and Yennefer remained on the curb and Geralt went to retrieve his first aid kit from the truck. He brought out an ace bandage and an ice pack, and returned to Yennefer.
“I’m going to wrap up your ankle.” This was obvious enough, but he always liked explaining things as he did them, especially when injuries were involved. “I really think a quick ER visit would be good,” he reiterated while he wrapped up her foot and ankle with the ace bandage. He struck a delicate balance with his tone, not wanting to worry Ciri, but wanting to sound serious enough to get Yen to agree with him.
“I understand that, but I really don’t think it’s necessary. I just twisted it. I’m sure in a couple hours it’ll be back to normal,” she argued.
“Ankles are tricky,” he replied. “It’s not always easy to tell if you’ve torn a ligament, or even fractured something, and if you put it off and end up walking on an injury for a couple of days, you’ll be a lot worse off than you would be if you just went now.”
Yennefer sighed. “But I’m covered in mud.”
“You are ridiculous,” he chuckled, throwing back her retort from before. “If I give you my jacket will you go?”
“I want your socks too,” she bargained. “Mine are wet.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” He sat down next to her and Ciri on the curb and took off his boots, giving his socks and jacket to Yen before helping her up. He didn’t like how pale her face went as she hobbled over to the passenger side of Geralt’s truck.
He knew she would put on a brave face though, and she hated for anyone to worry about her, but nevertheless Geralt did.
He just wanted her to be okay.
***
Of all the struggles Geralt had faced while sitting in a hospital waiting room, entertaining an eight year old was among the most difficult.
Thankfully, Yennefer had been seen without too much delay, being taken back in a wheelchair after only having to sit in the waiting room for half an hour, but Ciri and Geralt were still waiting for her to come back nearly two hours later, and Ciri was growing quite impatient.
Since she’d been staying with Yen the week before spring break, she’d been able to pass some of the time chattering with him about all the things he had missed while she’d been gone—third grade drama, heartbreak over a broken roller skate, victory at a spelling test, etc.—but even these stories, which were heavily dramatized and drawn out, only lasted them so long.
By the time they brought Yennefer back out, she was hungry and bored and antsy. Geralt was glad to see Yen return, since it meant he could finally get Ciri out of this damned waiting room, but he was even more glad to see Yen without a cast around her foot.
“I told you it was fine,” she said in a smug tone.
“Then why won’t they let you walk out of here?” Geralt replied with equal smugness.
It was true though. She was still in the wheelchair, with a nurse poised behind her.
“It’s a technicality,” she responded. “The bone isn’t broken and nothing is torn—only sprained.”
“Okay,” he said, putting his hands up in an exaggerated expression of surrender. He didn’t mention how sprains could often be as tough to heal as breaks were. He doubted that would help anything at the moment.
“We need to figure out dinner,” Yennefer said once she’d been helped up into the passenger seat of Geralt’s truck. “Ciri must be starving, especially after that ridiculous hike. You know, I don’t think you feed her enough, Geralt.”
It was just like her to deflect. She must be in pain if she was trying this hard to get Geralt to focus on something else.
“Do I starve you, Ciri?” Geralt looked to her in the rear view mirror.
“I’m hungry.”
“See? I’m right,” Yen asserted.
“I know you’re hungry now,” Geralt said, “but the rest of the time you’re with me. I feed you, right?”
“Yeah, you have the best cereal. Yennefer doesn’t let me have my favorite ones.”
“See.” He looked back at Yen, smirking. “I told you I feed her.”
“Fine, but we aren’t going to have cereal for dinner, so what’s the plan?”
“What do you think, Ciri?” Geralt asked.
“I want cereal,” she answered.
Yennefer huffed.
“Why don’t I worry about making dinner, while you relax on the couch and ice that ankle?”
“I don’t need to relax. I’m fine. I don’t need ice; I just need to know that my daughter is being taken care of.”
She was clearly frustrated, so Geralt dropped the joking demeanor.
“We’ve got that leftover chicken in the fridge,” he suggested. “I could make some mac and cheese to go with it. How does that sound?”
“I want cereal,” Ciri protested.
“How about cereal for dessert?”
Ciri was clearly excited about this idea, but she wasn’t the one Geralt was worried about placating.
“Does that sound okay?” he asked.
She kept her arms crossed over her chest and didn’t face him. “I suppose.”
“Now that we’ve dealt with that crisis, can we please talk about your ankle?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she insisted.
“Look, I’m sorry I made you go hiking with us. I’ll never do it again. But please don’t make it worse because of spite.”
“Spite?” They had a rule about not raising their voices at each other in front of Ciri. A rule which Yen seemed to have conveniently forgotten.
“I didn’t mean that.” He kept his voice low, as if this might cancel her out. “I’m just worried. Please let me take care of you.”
“I don’t need to be taken care of. I can manage on my own.”
“I know you can manage on your own, but you shouldn’t have to,” Geralt insisted.
“You just worry about getting Ciri cleaned up, and fed, and let me take care of myself.”
Geralt pulled into the driveway.
“Fine.”
He got out of the car, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. Ciri followed close behind as he went to unlock the front door. He let her into the house before coming back around to the passenger seat.
“I don’t suppose you’ll let me help you inside.”
“You really should go and start dinner. Ciri needs to eat.”
“Yennefer.”
She had tears in her eyes again, and Geralt wanted nothing more than to carry Yen inside and set her up on the couch with an ice pack and a blanket and make sure she had everything she needed, but for whatever reason, she was insisting on doing this by herself.
“Please, just go.”
“Alright.”
He left her outside, still in the passenger seat of his truck, and went into the house.
First he went to make sure Ciri had found clean clothes to put on, then he went into the kitchen and put on a pot of water for the macaroni, and after that he checked the clock. Yen still hadn’t made it inside, and he’d given her a full five minutes; this was getting ridiculous.
He walked back outside, expecting to find her still in the truck, and nearly tripped over her. She was sitting on the front steps, crying.
“I’m fine,” she insisted before Geralt had the chance to say anything.
He sat down next to her, and she buried her face in her hands, as if this would keep him from noticing her tears.
“What’s going on Yennefer?” He asked. “What’s this really about?”
It couldn’t just be the pain of her sprained ankle. There had to be something else at play here.
“It’s these stupid stairs.” She motioned at the three steps leading up to Geralt’s front door. “I was fine until I got to the stairs.”
He doubted that was true—she hadn’t been fine since the moment she twisted her ankle—but he didn’t press the issue. And anyway, that still wasn’t what this was about.
“That’s it? Nothing else is bothering you? Because I can help you up the stairs. You don’t have to be stuck out here.”
“It’s just—“ she started.
Finally. They were getting somewhere.
“It’s Ciri.”
“What’s wrong with Ciri? She’s fine.”
“No, it’s not a problem with Ciri. It’s her and you. She idolizes you, Geralt. You’re her hero. And I’m just the person who won’t get her favorite cereal.” There it was—the root of the problem. “I couldn’t even finish the stupid hike.”
She buried her face in her hands again, shoulders shaking.
“Ciri loves you—“ he began.
“I know,” Yen cut him off. “I know she loves me, but she likes you so much better. She hangs on your every word.”
Geralt sighed.
“Ciri was so happy you did that hike with us,” Geralt said. “I know that’s usually just our thing, but she was so excited to share it with you. And while you were back in the emergency room, she told me all the stories about her week at your house. She adores you, Yennefer.”
“Really?” She asked, not sounding convinced.
“I promise. Now will you let me help you inside? I’ve got water on the stove that’s probably boiling by now.”
“Alright.”
Geralt scooped her up and brought her inside, taking her into his bedroom and depositing her on his bed before going to retrieve an ice pack.
“You know, there really is nothing stopping you from just getting Ciri her favorite cereal,” Geralt said as he walked back in the room.
Yennefer sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Gods Geralt, that stuff has so much sugar in it.”
Geralt was glad to see that even though she was reprimanding him, Yen was smiling.
“Aw, you’re such a good mom.” Geralt grinned, pulling out a clean pair of pajamas from Yennefer’s bag.
“Speaking of good parents, where is our child?” she asked. “She seems awfully quiet. Is she up to something?”
Geralt shook his head. “She’s making the mac and cheese.”
“She’s using the stove unsupervised?” There was that admonishing again.
“She’s eight years old. She’ll be fine.”
“This is why you’re her favorite I think,” she speculated.
“Because I make her do chores?”
“No, because you don’t worry so much. I’m always worried about her.”
“I do worry about her,” Geralt said, “I just don’t hold the reins quite so tightly.”
“So you parent Ciri with the same logic you use on Roach?” Yen asked.
“Why wouldn’t I? I love them both equally.”
All signs of her tears were gone now, and she was out of her muddy hiking clothes.
“Now are we going to stay in here and keep debating how to raise our daughter, or are we going to go spend time with her?” Geralt asked.
She accepted his hand up, and didn’t protest when he put his arm around her to take the weight off her ankle.
“She’s probably just about done making us dinner by now,” Geralt joked.
Yen laughed. “Maybe your parenting style does have some merits.”
***
Geralt entered the kitchen to find Ciri set up at the stovetop, standing on her step stool and stirring the pot of macaroni.
He snuck up behind her and waited until she set the spatula down to scoop her up into his arms.
She squealed gleefully. “Put me down!” She kicked her legs, but didn’t protest when he draped her over his shoulder. He knew she loved this.
“Hmm, what did you make me?” He picked up the spatula and tasted the mac and cheese. It was hard to mess up boxed macaroni, but he wanted to check before he served it to Yennefer.
“This is delicious, Ciri. Do you want to bring some out to Yen?”
He set her down on the ground.
“Is she okay?” Ciri asked, suddenly serious.
Geralt nodded. “She had a rough day, but I’m sure she would feel a lot better if she got to eat dinner with her favorite daughter.”
Ciri beamed and accepted the plate of food he handed her.
“Why don’t you take this out to her?”
***
Ciri spent the rest of the evening practically glued to Yennefer’s side, and after she went to bed, Geralt was glad to see Yennefer agree to his plans to pamper her, without any protest.
He ran her a bath, and accepted her invitation to join her. It was luxurious. He would have been happy to stay there all night, but Yen’s ankle started to swell again, and while she was insistent that the relaxation of the bath was worth the little bit of pain, Geralt couldn’t condone making things worse.
“I take back what I said about you being too lenient,” Yen said. “I want you to be more lenient.”
“What if I told you I had ice cream in the freezer that I don’t even let Ciri have,” he suggested.
Yen pulled on her t-shirt and looked to him.
“I’m listening.”
He helped her back into his bed and brought her an ice pack and a pint of ice cream.
“Thanks for not letting me self-destruct today,” she said as they passed the ice between the two of them.
“Of course Yen. I’ll always look out for you. We’re partners; that’s kind of the point.”
“I’ll look out for you too then.” She rested her head against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. “As long as you never make me go hiking again.”
Geralt chuckled, setting the now empty ice cream container on his bedside table and laying down next to her.
“I already told you I wasn’t going to.”
Yennefer draped her arm across his torso and laid her head on his chest.
“Alright.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I love you.”
She yawned, letting her eyes drift close.
“I love you too.”