Work Text:
This isn't the end. Only the beginning of something bigger and much more terrifying. Yennefer can feel it coming, as she's sure Geralt and Ciri can as well. Really, they should already be running, finding the most secluded place they can so that they may never be found.
Instead, Geralt and Ciri stand on the broken bridge. Presumably, they're savouring the quiet. It's not peace, not even close, but it's quiet. That can be enough for now. Quiet.
Yennefer frowns. She glances around them, and she slips away, leaving them to their own version of peace. Her footsteps echo loudly as her shoes click and clack on the stones. When she walks back into the building, a few people look up at her, but their attention is quickly drawn away again, their wounds and weakness taking priority.
She makes her way over to the one person sitting by himself. Jaskier doesn't look up at the sound of her approach, seemingly mesmerized by the jasper as he turns it over and over in his hands. When she's a few steps away, that's when he lifts his empty gaze to her.
He holds the jasper up with a humourless smile and dryly says, "This doesn't really do anything at all, does it? I mean, Geralt saw it and he went all 'hate is what she wants' but it doesn't actually do anything, does it?"
Yennefer frowns, a downward twist to her eyebrows. "Technically speaking, no. But it did exactly what I thought it would — it made them realize what they had to do. Made me realize, too."
"Yeah, but you only gave me this to get me out of the way," Jaskier says sharply, looking up at her without blinking, "didn't you?"
"No." She sits across from him on the broken bench, but he turns his eyes back down to the jasper. She watches him watch it, like he's hoping it might do something. "I gave it to you because I trusted you to get it to Geralt. I knew he'd listen to you if you gave it to him. I obviously didn't plan on all of the obstacles in you getting it to him, but... it worked out alright in the end."
Jaskier stays quiet now. That's more worrying than anything he could've said. The entire time she's known him, he has rarely ever been quiet. It's just not in his nature, as a bard or as a person.
Then, oddly, his lips stretch into a thin smile. There's something almost genuine about it. Something a little weary, too. He sighs and sets the jasper on the table with a small clunk. Her stomach grows heavy as though the stone has been dropped right to the bottom of it.
"Suppose it did," he says at last. "At least Ciri's alright now. That's what really matters." He nods to himself, his smile stretching a little more for just a second. "That and that... that scary death demon in her is possibly gone for good. Hopefully."
Yennefer nods back. "As long as no more monoliths get broken, we may be okay," she agrees, and the weight begins to lift ever so slightly. There's something begrudgingly hopeful about the way she says it, and she glances back over her shoulder at Ciri and Geralt. "So long as I can help her to contain her chaos, teach her how to stop it from getting out of control..."
"Well," Jaskier begins, his voice oddly soft, dragging her attention back to him, "I don't doubt for a second that you'll be a brilliant teacher." His words are surprisingly sincere, and his smile more so as he taps the table and takes a deep breath. "I wish you and Geralt the best in co-parenting the child. She couldn't ask for a better pair looking out for her."
Against her will, a smile starts to form on her face. It wilts as quickly as it grows, though, a frown replacing it when she realizes just exactly what it is he's saying.
"You're a, frankly, terrifying, but... truly amazing pair together," he says. "Ciri is lucky to have the both of you watching over her. The three of you..." He blows out air and shakes his head, chuckling. "Well, I wouldn't want to be opposing you together, that is for certain."
His eyes drop back to the table, and as he takes his next breath, there's a stale, stuffy air between them. Taut, almost painfully constricting. The ticking of time plays in the background of her mind, each one coming too fast after the last, filling her with an alarmed urgency.
"I suppose I will once again say, Yennefer, goodbye," Jaskier begins to say, and the stone returns to Yennefer's stomach, dragging her down with it. "Good—"
"You're leaving?" she interrupts. "After all of this? If it's because of Geralt, then I feel I can sincerely and truthfully say that he wants you to stay this time. He probably did before as well but you know what he's like with expressing the things that he wants."
Jaskier forces a quiet chuckle, his tongue swiping his teeth. "Yes, I'm well aware that he's practically a wild boar on hind legs, and with... magnificent hair." He gives her the tiniest smile and she tries hard to return it, but her heart is simply not in it. "But that's not the reason I must leave. Not fully, anyway. Geralt and I have made our peace. Now, there is a journey that he must go on, and I am simply on a different path."
Yennefer shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing. "What does that even mean?"
He laughs gently at that and shakes his head in return, looking away as he says, "Honestly? I'm not entirely sure either." As the humour of it dies down, though, he turns back to her with eyes that say he does know, deep down. "I only know that I have to go. I don't belong in the middle of any of this, and we both know it. I was more of a hassle than a help being here."
"That's not true," she tries to argue, but Jaskier stops her, holding up a hand.
"Please, don't try to make me feel better. Mostly because it will probably work and I'll change my mind and then you'll be stuck with me for weeks until I end up nearly dying again and decide it isn't worth it."
She keeps her mouth closed and nods back instead, as hard as she finds that to do. His mind is made up. While there are many things she could do to change it, as he said, she chooses not to. For his sake, because perhaps there is some truth to it. He will end up here again. Nearly dead.
"So," Jaskier starts again, taking another deep breath, "I say to you, my dear wife for all of five minutes..." Neither one of them can help the laughter that escapes them until they're left merely looking at each other with the lingering ghosts of a smile. "Goodbye. Good luck. Good riddance."
Yennefer nods once more. Truth be told, she doesn't quite trust herself to speak. She mutely gets to her feet as Jaskier does the same. He groans as he shakes out his limbs as though preparing himself for a long journey ahead of him.
Her mind flashes to the beat of her heart. The journey behind them, the one that brought them here. The tavern, their escape, the boat, the fight, his hands reaching for her, steadying her despite their broken state.
She lunges before she can think, her body moving without her mind just like back in the tavern. And just like then, Jaskier is rendered near speechless beyond a noise of surprise as her arms are thrown around him. Only, now, he inhales, tensing momentarily, and then she's enveloped in an unfamiliar warmth.
"Don't be going soft on me, witch," he says in a voice that's hypocritically soft as feathers.
She laughs, overcome by the emotion of the last few days, or weeks, maybe even months.
"Or... crazy," he adds uncertainly.
"I will miss you," she whispers to him through her teeth. She draws back hastily and pulls herself together, swiping the wetness from her eyes. "But if you tell anyone I said that, I will personally send the fire fucker after you myself."
Jaskier smiles. "Loud and clear. For the record, just between you and me..." he leans in an inch or so, lowering his voice as he glances away, "I rather enjoyed our time together, too. Even if we were in danger for most of it. Never have I had a better fake wife."
"It was my pleasure," Yennefer jokes back.
It's time. Jaskier tips his head to her, and she manages a watery smile. She can barely breathe and so she doesn't attempt to say anything else. Neither does he. Instead, he leaves in silence. Yennefer tries to hold herself to the spot for as long as possible until she finds herself turning, and she watches each step he takes until he's out of her sight.
There's an urge, an itch, to follow him. She takes a deep breath and sinks back down onto the bench, reaching back to grip the edge. Her fingers brush against something, and she looks down to find the jasper. She stares until it's merely an amber blur, then she takes it and curls her fingers around it, pressing it into the palm of her hand.