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The phone ringing woke Geralt from a deep sleep.
His alarm clock read 3:15. He’d already been asleep for more than four hours.
He picked his phone up off of his bedside table, squinting against the brightness of the screen. Who was calling him at this ungodly hour? And more importantly, could he let it go to voicemail?
The caller ID read, Jaskier.
He hadn’t seen his friend in nearly a month. If he was calling Geralt now he was either drunk, or in the midst of an emergency. Possibly both.
Geralt answered the phone.
“Hello?” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep.
“Geralt?”
Jaskier sounded shaken.
“Yeah, what’s going on? Is everything alright?”
Geralt could hear him take a deep breath on the other end. Was he crying?
“Um,” he stammered, “I just got mugged.”
“Fuck,” Geralt sat up, pushing his blankets aside. “Are you okay?”
“No—I don’t know what to do.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my apartment. Would you come get me?” he asked.
Geralt had been pulling his shoes on before Jaskier even asked.
“I’m on my way, Jask,” he assured him. “Are you hurt?” he asked again.
“Yeah.” His voice was shaking. “Can you drive me to the emergency room?”
Geralt was in his car now, speeding down the dark highway. Jaskier sounded like he was in shock. Geralt didn’t want to press him, but he needed to find out how badly Jaskier was injured, so he knew whether or not to call for an ambulance.
“Where are you hurt?”
“He slammed me up against the wall. I hit the back of my head against the brick and it’s bleeding.”
“Are you applying pressure?” Geralt asked.
“What?”
“Can you get up and find a towel you can hold against your head?”
“I don’t know if I can stand up. I feel dizzy and I’m shaking really bad. I don’t think I can get up,” Jaskier said.
“How about your shirt then?”
“Okay, yeah,” he breathed.
“Alright, now you just need to keep pressure on it until I get there. Can you do that? I’m twenty minutes away.”
“It hurts.”
“Do you want me to call for an ambulance? They’d be there quicker than I could, and I could meet you at the emergency room.”
“No!” Jaskier cut in, sounding frantic. “I don’t want to go alone.”
“Okay, keep pressure on your head then. I’ll be there soon,” Geralt assured him.
“Stay on the phone with me,” Jaskier asked. “Please. I can’t be alone.”
“Of course, Jaskier. Anything you need.”
***
It was almost 3:45 by the time Geralt arrived at Jaskier’s apartment building. He had stayed on the phone with him the whole time, and it was obvious he was deeply shaken. It was hard to tell if his difficulty holding a conversation with Geralt was due to this, or due to a brain injury. He hoped it was the former, but until he saw Jaskier in person it would be hard to tell.
He really wished Jaskier had let him call for an ambulance. Head wounds were nasty, even when they weren’t also accompanied by brain injuries, and with the nature of the incident as Jaskier had described it, Geralt would be surprised if he managed to avoid a concussion.
He practically sprinted up the stairs, not patient enough to wait for an elevator. Thankfully, Jaskier had given Geralt a key to his apartment a while back so he didn’t have to make him get up to answer the door.
He found his friend sitting on the floor in front of his couch, his t-shirt pressed up against the back of his head.
“Hey,” Geralt knelt down in front of him. “How are you feeling?”
He was glad to see Jaskier meet his gaze, although he didn’t look fully present.
“Cold,” he answered.
“Alright, can I help you up?”
Jaskier nodded, taking the wadded up t-shirt off of the back of his head. There was more blood there than Geralt would have liked, but it seemed to have slowed to a trickle in the time it took him to arrive.
“Are we going to the emergency room?” Jaskier asked, letting Geralt give him a hand up.
“Yeah, let’s clean you up a little bit, and get you a new shirt, and then we’ll go.”
He didn’t protest when Geralt brought him into the bathroom and wet a rag, wiping off the blood from the back of Jaskier’s neck, just enough that he could put on a fresh shirt without immediately ruining it.
While he did this, he started asking Jaskier questions. He was sure he’d have to be the one to fill out the paperwork at the hospital, and he wanted to be prepared. It was hard to get any solid answers from him, but he managed to get a description of his symptoms. It would be enough for the intake paperwork at least, and Geralt didn’t want to press him any further—it seemed like thinking about the incident was just upsetting him more.
Jaskier looked a lot worse in the bright light of the bathroom than he had in the dark living room. He was white as a sheet and there was more blood than Geralt was comfortable with. Once he’d gotten some of the blood wiped away, he wasted no time retrieving Jaskier a new shirt, but he was still shivering even after he put it on, so Geralt got him a sweatshirt as well. The Witcher was familiar with the coldness that came with injury and shock, and the sweatshirt probably wouldn’t help much, but he had to do something. He wanted so badly for Jaskier to be comfortable, but he doubted that would be the case for quite a while.
Getting him to the hospital would be one step closer though.
***
“What did the doctor say?”
After waiting alone in the waiting room for two and a half hours, worrying about his friend and trying not to doze, Jaskier had finally returned. He looked exhausted, and still sort of out of it. He answered Geralt’s question though, with whole, coherent sentences, and that was an improvement over earlier.
“They closed up the cut on the back of my head,” Jaskier said. His eyes were half shut, and Geralt wanted to take the younger man in his arms and carry him to bed, but he wasn’t finished explaining. “They were able to use glue, so I avoided stitches.”
“Did they check for internal damage?” Geralt asked.
Jaskier nodded. “I have a concussion.”
Geralt had figured as much, but it was still disappointing to hear.
“Alright, well let’s get you home.”
At this, Jaskier’s face went stark white and his eyes widened. “Oh, um, okay.”
“I should have been more specific,” Geralt corrected himself. There was no way he was taking Jaskier back to his apartment right now. For one thing, it needed to be cleaned—they’d left blood all over the living room and the bathroom—and for another, Geralt would be a terrible friend if he left Jaskier to his own devices right now. He needed to be watched over, taken care of. “I meant my home. I mean, if that’s alright with you.”
Once Geralt said this Jaskier visibly relaxed. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s not any trouble at all.”
***
Yennefer and Ciri were just getting out of the car when Geralt pulled up.
Geralt swore. He’d forgotten Ciri was coming this morning.
“Huh?”
Jaskier had been dozing on the drive home, but he woke up when Geralt spoke.
“Everything’s fine,” Geralt assured him. “Just wait here for a minute.”
Geralt climbed out of the truck and walked up to Yen and Ciri. Before Yennefer could say anything, he unlocked the door and let Ciri inside. He wasn’t sure how much she should know about what’s going on.
“Where were you this early in the morning? Did you forget we were coming? Because I really need you to take Ciri. I have to go out of town for work; we talked about this.”
“Jaskier got mugged last night, Yen,” Geralt told her. “We just got back from the emergency room.”
Her expression went from annoyance to concern. “Oh no, is he alright?”
“He’s got a concussion and a nasty cut on the back of his head, and he’s pretty shaken up. I want to get him inside and to bed, but I don’t want Ciri to see him right now. She looks up to him, and he’s in really rough shape. I don’t want to freak her out.”
“So you’re going to just hide him away?”
“No, but I want to be able to explain things if she’s going to be here,” he said. “But if there’s any way you could keep her for just another day,” Geralt suggested.
“I can’t even keep her for another hour. I’m going to miss my flight,” Yen said. “I can call and see if she can spend the day with one of her school friends once I get to the airport, but she’s going to have to be here for a few hours at least.”
“Fine, okay. Can you just buy me a few minutes?”
As if on cue, Ciri ran out the front door back to Geralt and Yennefer.
“Ciri, why don’t you go out back and show Yen the baby chicks,” Geralt suggested before Yen could protest.
At this her face lit up.
“They hatched?”
“Earlier this week. I bet Yen would love to see them.”
Ciri had insisted on one of Geralt’s hens being allowed to hatch a brood of chicks, and now the babies were finally here. This would certainly buy him at least ten minutes.
“Geralt,” she gave him a pointed look. “These are nice shoes.”
He met her glare with a pleading one of his own.
“Just a few minutes.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
“Thank you,” he mouthed as Ciri took her by the hand and led her to the chicken coop.
Once they were out of sight, Geralt walked back to the truck to retrieve Jaskier.
“Is everything alright?” Jaskier asked. He looked half asleep, and the last thing he needed to be doing right now was worrying about anyone other than himself.
“Everything is fine. I just forgot that Ciri was coming this morning, but that doesn’t change anything. Now let’s get you to bed, okay?”
“Okay,” Jaskier mumbled, letting Geralt help him down from the truck, wrapping an arm around him and supporting most of his weight as they entered the house.
The guest room was currently filled with a lego city Ciri had been building in the living room until Geralt had stepped on a lego one too many times and relocated it, so he brought Jaskier to his own room instead.
“Is there anything you need?” Geralt asked as he dug through his dresser, looking for a pair of pajamas Jaskier could wear.
“I’m okay,” Jaskier answered. Geralt was wholly unconvinced, but he didn’t argue.
“Here,” he handed him a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. They would be baggy on him, but with the drawstring they’d fit well enough. And they’d be infinitely more comfortable than his bloody sweatshirt and jeans.
He accepted them, and once he was changed, Geralt gently guided him to the bed.
“I’m going to get your sheets dirty,” he protested weakly.
“Don’t be stupid. I’ll wash the sheets,” Geralt replied. “You need to rest.”
Thankfully this was enough to convince him, because Geralt was certain if Jaskier was on his feet for another minute he’d collapse. And lucky for him, thanks to Ciri, Geralt was a pro at tucking people into bed. He did so now, retrieving an extra blanket from the closet when he felt how cold Jaskier still was.
“If you need anything,” Geralt said, “anything at all, call me. I’ll be right outside. Don’t hesitate.”
“I won’t.”
“Alright. I’ll come check on you in a little while.”
***
Geralt found Ciri and Yennefer out back, looking at the little brood of chicks ambling around the yard, exactly where they said they’d be. Yennefer looked annoyed and stressed, and Ciri was much too excited about the baby chicks to notice.
“I’ve got everything sorted now,” Geralt said. “You can go catch your flight.”
“Thank you,” Yen said, standing up and kissing Geralt on the cheek, before opening her arms up to Ciri. “I’ll be back in a few days my love. Be extra good for Geralt while I’m gone.”
Ciri wrapped her arms around her mother and squeezed her tight. “Will you call me?”
Geralt didn’t like to see how reluctant she was to let Yen go, but she acted the same when Geralt left. The three of them ought to spend more time together as a family, but Geralt had enough problems to worry about today without worrying about this as well. He’d talk to Yen about maybe spending a little while out here as a family when she got back. For now though, they just needed to get through this goodbye.
“Of course my love. I’ll call you tonight from the hotel.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Yen assured her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
***
The key to getting through a parent leaving without tears was distraction. If he could just keep her mind of Yen being gone for ten or fifteen minutes, she’d be fine until her mother returned in a couple of days.
This wouldn’t be difficult at all today.
“You know, I haven’t named any of the chicks yet.”
Ciri’s eyes lit up and she looked up to him. “Really?”
“I figured you would want to,” he told her. “Go ahead.”
It worked like a charm.
She spent the next little while chasing the chicks around the pen, catching them one by one, and giving them each a name.
Every time she decided on one, she would find Geralt as he made his way through his morning chores, and tell him the name of the baby chick. He figured he would let her finish this before he told her about Jaskier.
It took the better part of an hour, but before long she returned without a chick cupped in her hands. He’d run out of time to work out what exactly to say to her about Jaskier. He didn’t want to frighten her.
“Can we go have breakfast?” Ciri asked. “I’m hungry.”
“Yennefer didn’t feed you?”
“I had a banana,” she answered, “but I’m hungry again. Can you make pancakes?”
“Hmm,” Geralt pretended to think.
“Pleeeeaaase,” she dragged out the word. “I’m so hungry.”
“Oh alright.” He stood up and scooped her up off her feet and into his arms. She squealed in delight. “But you have to promise to be quiet once we get inside.” He rested her on his hip.
“Why?” she asked.
Geralt paused, thinking of how best to phrase this.
“Because Jaskier’s here,” he answered, “and he’s sleeping.”
“Jaskier’s here?” she asked, suddenly excited. Ciri absolutely adored Jaskier, and she didn’t get to see him nearly often enough. Any time she got to spend time with her beloved uncle was a cause for great excitement.
“Yes.” He was careful to keep his tone somber. “But he isn’t feeling well, and he needs to rest, so we need to make sure and be very quiet so we don’t wake him up, okay?”
“Is he alright?” The excitement quickly turned to worry.
“He got in an accident.” It wasn’t quite the truth, but he didn’t want to tell Ciri he’d been attacked. She was so young, and he didn’t want to scare her. “He hurt his head, but he’ll be fine.”
“Will I get to see him?”
Geralt thought about what rough shape he was in right now—how different he was from his normal, chatty, cheerful self. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him how he was now, in shock and in pain.
“We’ll see. I’ll ask when he wakes up.”
This would placate her for now. Geralt just hoped Jaskier would feel better when he woke.
***
It was almost noon when Geralt’s phone buzzed. He was glad to see Jaskier had slept so long.
After breakfast Geralt and Ciri had gone back outside, Geralt to tend to his animals and crops, and Ciri to wander around the farm, chasing around the chickens and goats, and admiring Roach when Geralt went to feed her and clean out her stall.
He told Ciri once he was finished, he’d saddle her up and they could go riding around the yard, but just before he could it had started to rain. Ciri of course took this as her cue to go out into the yard and stomp around in the rapidly growing puddles. He thought about stopping her, but there really was no harm in it, and she seemed to be having a great time.
By the time he’d finished in the stables, she was soaked to the skin and covered in mud.
He had just gotten her into the bath when his phone buzzed with the call from Jaskier. Perfect timing.
He didn’t answer, instead declining the call and just walking down the hall to his room.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” He came and sat at the foot of the bed. “Did you get some sleep?”
“For a while,” Jaskier answered, his voice low and raspy. “But I had a nightmare about an hour ago, and I haven’t been able to get back to sleep.”
“Oh, Jask. You didn’t have to wait so long to call.”
“I was trying to get back to sleep, but I don’t think I’ll be able to for a while. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”
He looked so small there curled up under Geralt’s comforter. His heart ached for the younger man.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Is there any way I could hang out with you and Ciri for a little bit?” He said it timidly, as if he was afraid Geralt might say no.
“Of course,” Geralt answered. “Of course. Do you want to come lay on the couch?”
Jaskier nodded, wincing as he sat up. His eyebrows remained furrowed, and his eyes half closed as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was clearly still in a lot of pain, but he seemed steady enough on his feet, and he made it to the couch without stumbling. Geralt walked behind him, blanket in hand, ready to help if he needed it.
“Okay, what can I get you? Can I get you some ibuprofen? What hurts?”
Jaskier gave him a sleepy smile.
“Fatherhood looks good on you, Geralt. I remember when we first met I had to practically beg you for sympathy.”
Geralt remembered that time. What Jaskier said was true. He’d always loved his friend, but before Ciri came along he had a bit harder of a time showing it.
“You’re avoiding my question.”
Jaskier sighed. “Well my head hurts, but that’s to be expected,” he answered. “Other than that I just feel sore. My ribs ache, and it feels like I did the hardest workout of my life yesterday, even though all I did was go out for a couple of drinks.”
“Is there anything else? Any numbness or dizziness.”
Jaskier shook his head, once again wincing at the movement.
“And your headache, does it feel like pressure, or just pain?”
“Just pain.”
“Good. This is good.”
“And,” Geralt hesitated. He wanted to make sure Jaskier wasn’t displaying any worrying symptoms, but he was still reluctant to bring up the attack. “Do you remember everything alright?”
Jaskier paled, and his breath became shallow for a few moments before he was able to even it out again.
“Yeah,” he answered, “I remember everything.”
Geralt reached out to rest his hand on Jaskier’s, which was trembling ever so slightly.
“These are all good signs, Jask. You’re going to recover from this. You’ll be good as new in a couple of days , okay?”
Jaskier nodded. “Okay.”
“Now let’s see what we can do about the pain.”
Before he did anything else, Geralt retrieved his heating pad and brought it to Jaskier, plugging it in so it could start warming up.
“This should help with your ribs.”
Jaskier took it without protest.
Next he retrieved some ibuprofen and the anti-inflammatory cream he used for his own sore muscles.
“It feels a bit strange,” Geralt explained, unscrewing the cap, “but it will help with the soreness. Where does it hurt the worst?”
“My neck.” He brought his hand up, rubbing the muscles at the base of his skull.”
That made sense. He was probably experiencing some whiplash if he was pushed hard enough into a wall to give him a concussion.
“Here.”
Geralt squeezed out some of the cream onto his hand and sat down next to Jaskier on the couch.
He’d just finished massaging it into the stiff muscles at the back of Jaskier’s neck when Ciri emerged from the bath, her hair dripping down her back, soaking into her clean, dry t-shirt.
“Geralt,” she called out, “can you braid my hair for me?”
She came into the living room, hairbrush in hand. She opened her mouth to ask again, but as soon as she saw who was sitting on the couch, her expression changed, her face breaking out into a huge grin.
“Jaskier!”
“Hi Ciri.” Jaskier smiled too. “It’s been too long. I swear you’ve grown taller since the last time I saw you.”
“I missed you!”
Jaskier chuckled. “I missed you too.”
***
Once Ciri’s hair was braided, Geralt was faced with the task of entertaining her with something she could do inside, out of the rain, which wasn’t so noisy that it would disturb Jaskier. Normally on rainy afternoons like this, they’d turn on a movie, but with Jaskier’s concussion Geralt didn’t want the tv on. Eventually they landed on drawing.
Within minutes Ciri had spread out all her favorite markers and crayons across the coffee table, along with a haphazard stack of printer paper.
She got started right away on a cheerful depiction of the mother hen and her brood of chicks while, at Ciri’s insistence, Geralt took a marker and a piece of paper as well.
He was glad to see Jaskier doze off while they began work on their drawings. He needed the rest desperately. Ciri seemed unbothered by his appearance, too excited to either notice or care, but Geralt could still see the signs of shock and exhaustion. He was too pale, the circles under his eyes too dark, almost like bruises. And he was tense. So tense. Even in sleep he didn’t seem to relax, his muscles taut. No wonder he was sore.
Geralt got up and retrieved a second blanket, draping it over him while Ciri continued drawing at the coffee table at his feet. He would need to remember to thank her for being so well behaved, and playing so quietly.
By the time Jaskier woke again, she’d finished several drawings of the various animals around the farm, and Geralt was putting the finishing touches on a picture of Roach, which was always his go to whenever Ciri asked him to draw pictures with her. He was actually getting quite good at them. He wondered if, in another life, this could have been a hobby of his.
These thoughts didn’t last for long though, because Jaskier was stirring again, whimpering in his sleep.
“Ciri,” Geralt said in a low voice. “It’s about time for lunch. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and look in the fridge to see what you want to have.”
She nodded obediently, getting up and scurrying off to the kitchen just in time for Jaskier to open his eyes, wincing as soon as he was conscious.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said in a low voice, wanting to get his attention before he focused too much on the pain.
The younger man’s eyes trained on him, but he didn’t relax. Something was unsettling him, and had been since before he awoke.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he mumbled, taking a couple of measured breaths. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all.”
It looked like all the work Geralt had put in to try and help Jaskier manage his pain had been undone while he slept.
“How can I help?”
Jaskier was shaking again, his whole body trembling underneath the blanket.
“I just need a minute,” he answered.
Geralt sat back on his heels, waiting on a sign of improvement he knew wouldn’t come.
“Fuck,” Jaskier swore after a long, tense moment of silence. “I don’t feel well.”
“Do you want a glass of water?” Geralt offered. “You can’t take any more painkillers yet, but I can plug the heating pad back in.”
“No,” Jaskier replied. “I really don’t feel well.”
“Oh.” He wasted no time in getting up and retrieving the small trash can from his bedroom, hoping that Ciri stayed in the kitchen.
Geralt tried to think through what might be causing this as Jaskier focused on breathing, clearly trying to avoid being sick. The shaking was only getting worse as the seconds passed, and his pallor seemed now to be tinged ever so slightly with green. This could very well be a symptom of the concussion, but it was strange that it hadn’t shown up earlier—unless it didn’t have to do with his injuries at all.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“What?” Jaskier didn’t look up.
“I think your blood sugar might be low; that could be why you feel so nauseous.”
“Um.” It looked like the answer to his question required some serious remembering. Not a good sign. “I had a burger last night at the bar, probably around nine or ten. I don’t really know.”
“Well that’s your problem.” Geralt probably should have made sure Jaskier had eaten before giving him painkillers, but it was too late for that now. He could still fix this though. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”
“No,” Jaskier moaned. “I’m really not hungry.”
“This’ll help.” Geralt stood up, not wanting to argue about this. “I’ll be right back.”
He went into the kitchen, bypassing Ciri—who was standing on the counter, reaching for a jar of peanut butter—and heading to the pantry. He needed to find something Jaskier would agree to eat to tide him over until Geralt could convince him to eat a real meal. He decided on saltine crackers, and retrieved the peanut butter from the top shelf before Ciri fell off the counter reaching for it.
“I’ll be back in a minute and we’ll eat lunch together,” he told her.
She was happy enough to have free reign to put as much peanut butter as she wanted on her sandwich that she didn’t question Geralt’s behavior.
He left her in the kitchen to make her sandwich, and walked back into the living room. He was glad to see that Jaskier had managed to avoid being sick while he’d been gone.
“Here.” He handed Jaskier the sleeve of crackers.
“Geralt, I really don’t—”
“Just trust me. You’ll feel better once you get some food in your stomach. If I’m wrong I give you permission to say I told you so.”
“Fine.” Jaskier sighed, situating the trash can in his lap and taking the crackers. “It’s your crackers on the line.”
***
“Jaskier, I made you something,” Ciri announced past a mouthful of peanut butter.
“Not with your mouth full,” Geralt scolded. He wasn’t particularly bothered by this sort of thing, but Yennefer was. And Geralt had been on the receiving end of enough lectures about how important it was for the two of them to be a united front that now he remembered to correct Ciri’s manners. Most of the time.
It didn’t matter though, because Ciri wasn’t listening. Instead she was rifling through her stack of drawings, getting sticky thumbprints on all of them as she looked for a specific one.
“Here!” She handed him one from the bottom of the stack. It was folded in half and covered in pink and green flowers, with the words “Get Well Soon” in big letters across the front.
Jaskier set aside the bowl of soup Geralt had made him to take the get well card.
“Aw, thank you Ciri. I love it.”
He wasn’t lying. It warmed Geralt’s heart to see the friendship between his best friend and his daughter.
Despite today’s misfortunes, he felt lucky to get to be a part of this family.
***
It was obvious Jaskier was fighting sleep. The three of them had spent the whole afternoon and evening together, but Ciri had been in bed for nearly two hours now, and Jaskier and Geralt were left just sitting in the living room, relaxing and resting.
Jaskier insisted he was fine staying up until Geralt went to bed, but his exhaustion was bound to win over his stubbornness eventually. And judging by the heaviness of his eyelids, eventually was going to come sooner rather than later.
“Come on Jask.” Geralt stood up. “You can take my bed for the night. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m not tired.”
Geralt chuckled. “You sound like Ciri,” he said. “Sleep is important for brain injuries. If you want to be up and working any time soon, you need to sleep.”
Jaskier squirmed, burrowing deeper into the couch.
“I’ll be alright. You can go sleep in your room, and I’ll stay out here.”
Geralt sat back down, looking at his friend critically. “What’s going on Jask?”
“It’s just,” he paused, seemingly avoiding finding his way to what was really bothering him. “I don’t want to have nightmares. I don’t want to have to relive it again.”
“Oh.” Geralt should have known. The past two times Jaskier had woken it had been from a nightmare. Of course Jaskier didn’t want to go to bed.
“If you want, I can sleep in my room with you. I know there’s not much I can do to stop the nightmares, but maybe having someone there with you...”
“No, Geralt. I’ve already inconvenienced you enough—”
“It’s not an inconvenience,” Geralt interrupted. “Taking care of you isn’t an inconvenience.”
This was met with only silence.
“I care about you, and I want to help.”
Jaskier’s eyes were downcast, not meeting Geralt’s gaze.
“Will you let me help you?”
Jaskier didn’t speak, responding with just a nod.
But he did let Geralt help.
He let Geralt lead him to bed, and once he was tucked under the covers, he let the Witcher lay down next to him. And when he woke from another nightmare, he let Geralt, half asleep, sit him up and pull him close, repeating assurances under his breath that he was safe and nobody could hurt him.
And for the next three days he let Geralt feed him and tend to him until Yennefer came back to retrieve Ciri.
Once she was back in town with her mother, Geralt went with Jaskier back to his apartment to clean up the mess they’d left when they’d gone to the emergency room.
He let Geralt help him scrub the dried blood from the floor and wash it off of the leather couch cushions.
“You know, if you want to stay with me for a little while longer you can,” Geralt offered after they finished cleaning and disinfecting the apartment.
“As much as I would love to, I can’t hide away forever.”
Geralt understood, but still he hated to see his friend go. He pulled him in for a hug.
“Call me if you need anything.”
Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt and held him tight.
“You know I will.”