If life could give me one blessing...

Geralt is alive - part 1

"Where are you going?" said Jaskier as he leaned on the entrance to the stables.

"Jaskier," the witcher turned around, his permanent frown softening a little as he corrected the saddlebags on Roach.

"Long time no see. Did you miss me?" he smiled, playing with the lute strap on his chest as he watched his friend.

"Hmm," was the usual answer. The witcher led his horse around Jaskier outside, where he sat on her and spurred her on riding out of town.

"Hey! Slow down a little bit. Aren't you happy to see me again? You had the whole winter to brood in silence," called the bard after him, as he held his hat and hurried after him. There was no answer, but Jaskier knew that Geralt probably only wanted to get out of the town quick and then would slow down again. He wouldn't leave him behind, would he?"

"Geralt?" asked the bard in a small voice, picking up his pace, but he wasn't fast enough. Roach walked and walked, carrying the white-haired witcher away from him. He felt panic rising into his throat as he sped up once again, hat falling down from his head as he ran.

He turned after it only to see it falling into the dust behind him, but when he turned back again, he was alone. There was no familiar silhouette, no yellow eyes, no double swords.

"Geralt?" he called into the emptiness, suddenly feeling so bare and alone.

He woke up with a gasp, immediately catching attention of a different pair of yellow eyes as the witcher quickly lifted his hands from where he was cleaning the wounds on the bard's feet.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" asked Lambert when he saw the silver flowing freely from Jaskier's eyes.

"No, that was only a dream. Or a memory. Maybe mix of both," the bard shook his head slowly and saw Lambert deflating in relief as he returned to cleaning his feet. To say the truth, Jaskier didn't even feel him that much. It was like he was detached from his own body, only supervising it from above. He wasn't even perfectly sure that this wasn't just his dream continuing.

"How... are you?" asked Lambert after a while as he started wrapping the wounds again.

"I don't really know. It's just... I have never felt like this. So... away? Detached? I know I will die and that is the only thing that feels right," he said, mindlessly playing with the edge of the blanket he was wrapped in. He could see the pain in the young wolf's face but couldn't muster up enough energy to care.

"Is there any way I... that we can help?" the pair of yellow eyes so painfully similar to Geralt's looked at him and, maybe in some reflex that the bard gained over the years in a human body, he felt his lips bend into a hollow, insincere smile.

"I don't think so," he shook his head again. "I had two years to make my peace with this. I wrote a few songs. Then I tried some human coping mechanisms. But now? I'm done. I tried for twenty years and as I understood, that is a pretty long time for humans, even for a witcher. If all that has got me was being blamed for someone's decisions and then being left somewhere to die alone, that's it," he closed his eyes. At this point, his face was blank, expressionless. Only two silver streaks flowing down onto the pillow.

He could hear Lambert sigh, take a few steps, before stopping once more, and then finally leaving. It didn't take long for him to fall into another dream.