He grunted quietly as he hopped off Roach, holding back his wince at the small but sharp pain that shot up his leg. The stupid contract had specified only one harpy, easy enough. He quickly found however that it wasn't alone, and the one he'd been hired to kill was just a baby. The fight with the mother had turned out harder than he was willing to admit. He'd done it, but it had nearly cost him an arm; and his sword. Upon returning to the village he had gotten his payment for the creatures and an offer from the woman who hired him; she would put him up for free in her husband's inn as long as he needed. He'd tried to refuse but the motherly woman had tut-tutted at him and stubbornly refused to listen to him. He'd finally given up and accepted the offer when she'd crossed her arms and eyed him like a disobedient child.

He walked slowly towards the stable, handing Roach off to a young stablehand who promised to take care of her, before scrambling off. Geralt made his way inside, the pain in his leg already easing. He ordered an ale and a meal, only slightly surprised when the young man behind the bar denied his payment.

"Ma told me you were me to let you eat'n drink free." He said. Geralt huffed before retreating to the furthest corner he could, ignoring the glances sent his way. He tried to get as close to a window as he could, overwhelmed as the place smelled of ale, sick, roast meat and… Geralt looked up with a start. Blueberries, summer flowers and cinnamon.

Jaskier. That was the only person he knew who smelled of summer even in the coldest of months. It had been so long since he'd seen or heard of the bard, not that he'd admit he asked in every town he'd passed through for 8 months after the dragon hunt only stopping when the weight of not knowing if he was even still anywhere to be found grew too heavy. He grew convinced Jaskier had headed towards the growing war.

He glanced towards the crowded area by the hearth and there he was. Jaskier stood proudly before the fire, skin awash with reds and oranges, lending him an ethereal glow. His hands were skillfully playing an all too familiar tune and Geralt had to fight the urge to stand and approach him. The witcher vaguely noticed a quick movement as the young man from the bar set down his meal and ale.

Jaskier didn't seem to see him, the bard too enthralled by his audience. His song finished, he took a deep bow, smiling brightly, and the clink of coins falling into his lute case drowned out his words.

A few moments later, when the fuss had eased and no one was paying him any mind, he knelt behind his case and gingerly set the lute within. He sighed deeply and the smile on his lips faded, the shadows that contorted his features made him seem far too melancholy. Geralt hated to see his…. No. Not his. The bard, so unlike himself; unlike who Geralt had come to know.

Geralt stood, his meal sitting forgotten on the table, untouched.

"Jaskier?" He said when he got close enough. He expected anything, the bard to startle, to jump, even to snap at him to leave. He didn't expect the bard
to show no reaction; not even a flick of his gaze.

"Jaskier?" He said again, had the bard gone deaf in the few moments it took to cross the room?

"I heard you, Witcher." Jaskier said in a voice that sounded far too even and stoic for the animated man. He raised his eyes for just a second, just enough to fix Geralt with a gaze that, had he been human, would have sent him staggering.

The bard said nothing else, tearing his gaze away as he stood with his lute case in hand.

When he started to walk towards the stairs Geralt couldn't help but reach out and take a hold of his wrist.

"Jaskier…"

"Don't touch me." Jaskier ground out between his teeth, shoulders tensed and hackles raised. The overwhelming stench of anger radiated from the bard and Geralt was taken aback. The anger soon mixed with the sour stench of fear and the sickly sweet smell of something else Geralt couldn't actually place

Geralt released his wrist, an unfamiliar tightness blooming in his chest. Jaskier had never smelled of fear around him before, not even during his hunts. He watched as, even though he had released the other, Jaskier didn't move; didn't continue up the stairs.

"If you want to talk for, whatever it's worth I guess. Room four." Jaskier said blankly over his shoulder before he finally, finally moved.

Geralt was left standing at a loss as he watched his… no, the bard, vanish up the stairs. He knew, somehow, that he wasn't actually supposed to take Jaskier up on his offer; or Jaskier didn't expect him to. But Geralt would, he had to.

The Witcher glanced back at his meal and took note of the still warm sweet bread tucked to the side of the plate. Jaskier always had a sweet tooth and took every chance he had to savor a sugary treat, he also noted that he hadn't seen Jaskier eat anything before he'd fled up the stairs. Maybe the bard had eaten before he performed but Geralt found he doubted that and so he doubled back, scooped up the sweet bread and started up the stairs himself.

Room four was of course the only one with the door closed and the glow of candlelight flickering from beneath it. It was far too early for anyone to be going to bed… Too early for Jaskier to stop playing. Geralt could have heard, sensed that the bard was pacing, even if his staggering shadow hadn't been easily spied under the door.

Geralt didn't even have to get closer than the hall to smell the still lingering scent of anger and fear. That was still so wrong, so unlike Jaskier. He knocked slowly, gentler than he thought he was capable of.

"Jaskier?"

The door opened and Jaskier stood there, once again bathed in orange flame and once again looking strangely ethereal.

"So you actually came, huh." He said. It wasn't a question.

Geralt held out his hand, presenting Jaskier with the sweet bread, eyes averted.

"You expect me to talk to the sweet roll?" There, there was a tiny spark of sarcasm, a tiny spark of Jaskier!

"You didn't eat." Geralt muttered, keeping the bread held out in offering. "They gave me a sweet roll and… you like them."

"Since when has that mattered to you?" And there it went, back to the quiet and angry Jaskier.

"Don't like sweets."

"Don't give me that. You'd have fought tooth and nail to get that and horde it for yourself." Jaskier muttered before he let out a deep sigh. He stepped away, still not taking the offered food, though he didn't slam the door in Geralt's face like he half expected.

Geralt followed him as Jaskier retreated to the bed, though the witcher took a moment to close the door behind him. He set the roll down on the table beside the door and turned to look at Jaskier. The bard sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

"You took me up on an offer I didn't mean to extend. But it means you want to talk. So talk." Jaskier muttered, not moving from his position on the bed.

Geralt frowned, eyebrows pulled taught in an unusual show of nerves.

"I'm sorry." He finally said after a beat. He looked to Jaskier, who had at his words shifted just enough to glance at him.

"What are you doing Geralt?"

Geralt huffed. "I'm apologizing." He said, physically stepping back when that pulled a sharp, wry laugh from the bard that ended abruptly.

"Yea. I guess you are. But why? Why are you apologizing?" Jaskier asked, his tone quiet.

"Because-" Jaskier cut the Witcher off.

"How about I guess? You found Yennefer again and she wanted nothing to do with you, right? Or did you go to her and fuck to your hearts content, only to realize your punching bag had left you and that of course simply wouldn't do! Geralt of Rivia without his punching bag?" He snarled, having stood from the bed during his rant.

"Jaskier…"

"Don't Jaskier me! You left me Geralt! Made sure I knew just how little I meant to you! All I was good for was shoveling shit, remember? You made that crystal clear two years ago!" He advanced on Geralt, finger jabbing into his chest and the witcher didn't stop him, too stunned by the wetness of unshed tears collecting in Jaskier's eyes to even try.

"You plainly picked Yennefer and sent me away, and I would have been fine with that! I would have been fine with you being in love with Yennefer or whatever, as long as you were still my friend! But that's not what happened! You sent Yennefer away and then regretted it. So, being the dumbass I was, I let you yell and take whatever it was out on me because I thought you'd just yell a little, and we'd be done. But you sent me away too, Geralt! And so I did what you asked! I left! I went the exact opposite way from you! I left every single village I heard you were possibly heading towards!" The tears began to fall and the overwhelming stench of anger was back. So was the sickly sweet scent that Geralt was belatedly sure was betrayal or maybe even despair.

"I didn't...Yennefer left on her own." Geralt said when Jaskier paused for breath. He clenched his fists and started to speak again but Jaskier didn't let him.

"Smart woman." Jaskier snarled. "Smarter than me anyway. Geralt I waited for you to turn around and stop me from leaving, stop me at all. But you didn't! You decided being alone was better than being with me! Just like you decided Yennefer was better company than me! You didn't even try to find me, but I bet you found Yennefer within a fortnight!" He wiped at his wet cheeks, and when he found he couldn't stop the tears from falling, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"I looked for you!" Geralt snapped back. "I looked for months! No one had seen you!"

That seemed to startled Jaskier from his anger and he looked up, hands lowering, though new tears still rolled down his reddened cheeks.

"You looked for me?" He breathed.

"I looked for months. Everyone said they hadn't seen anyone like you in town. I had moved away from the fighting and so, if you hadn't gone that way… I was certain you'd gone towards it. I never imagined you'd have just sidestepped me." His voice cracked ever so slightly at the end, minor enough that not many would have been able to pick up on it.

"You thought I'd been killed." Jaskier said slowly, much quieter than he had been since Geralt entered.

"I wondered. You hadn't written anything new… not that I heard other people singing. No one had seen you in any town safe from the fighting."

Jaskier took a step back, suddenly too aware of how close he stood to Geralt. "You still left me. You pushed me away on that damn mountain and didn't seem to care about me even when I would have followed you to the ends of the planet." He said, though his anger had seemingly given way to a melancholic sadness. "What changed? Why did you start looking for me?"

How did he explain it? How did he explain he had wanted to take it all back, everything he'd said. That he'd turned and rushed towards camp, only to find it empty and his heart had dropped into his stomach. How did he explain the manic way he had searched the towns after that? How did he explain that when he was sure that conversation was the last he'd ever have with Jaskier, he'd been nearly torn apart, his heart shredded? How did he tell the bard that he was going mad from the silence his departure had caused? Could he even explain it to himself?

"I missed you." He finally settled on. "I made a mistake on the mountain and I lost…" his fists clenched again. "I lost the only friend I had. It was so quiet without you…" he wanted to say more but Jaskier approached once again and laid a gentle hand on his chest.

"Geralt…"

"No, listen…" Geralt gently, as gently as he could, took a hold of Jaskier's wrist and removed it from his chest, instead sliding his hand to intertwine their fingers. "I can't lie… it took me a good few hours after I yelled at you before I realized I wanted to stop you and even longer before I realized what I'd actually said, but you were already gone. I looked for you for eight months before I finally concluded you were probably dead. When I decided that, I stopped looking… Stopped anything really. Took Lambert knocking some sense into me to get me to even take a contract."

The bard looked from Geralt's face, to their still entwined fingers and back again but he didn't speak.

"All this time on the road, alone…It's gotten to me. Made me think." His free hand reached up and cupped Jaskier's cheek, thumbing away the tears. "I got so used to you being there and it was so jarring with you gone that I realized something. Finalized the thought when I was sure you'd been killed and I'd never see you again."

"What?" Jaskier breathed.

"I love you."

"But… I'm not Yennefer." Jaskier said slowly. "You love her…"

"No. I mean yes, I do, but not the same as you. It took me being convinced I'd lost you to make me see that…"

"That you love me?" Jaskier watched him with a million emotions in those beautiful cornflower eyes and Geralt could have wept himself, had he still held the ability to.

"Let me try again… Please, Jaski… Please, Julian. Let me try again."

A sharp, went laugh was pulled from Jaskier's throat. "You said please. I've never heard you say please before." He murmured.

Geralt felt his chest tighten. Jaskier was going to push him away, and though he couldn't blame him, he didn't know if he'd pull through that.

"You…I don't forgive you Geralt. Not yet." The witcher nearly cringed. "I can't… you hurt me so badly Geralt. I loved you then you know…"

"Loved?" Geralt croaked. "You...Loved me then.. But not now?"

"It… It doesn't vanish that easily Geralt. I think I still do… but-"

Geralt cut him off. "I won't hurt you again Jaskier… i won't! Just let me try again."

Jaskier lowered his eyes, stepping away and causing Geralt's hands to fall and hang limply at his sides.

"Geralt I…I…"

Geralt was prepared for Jaksier to act and send him away for good, say he was unforgivable and slam the door in his face. He was not prepared to catch an arm-full of sobbing bard as said bard brought their lips together in a desperate kiss.

"One more try." Jaskier said, breathless as he leaned back just a little. "One more time like that mountain and I'm leaving for good."

"I'll do better this time." Geralt did, leaning his forehead against the Bard's.

"Promise?"

"I swear." Geralt whispered, before being the one to kiss Jaskier this time.