( Geralt x Jaskier)
The memory would stay with him for the rest of his unfairly long life.
Everything from the sight to the smell of the room would forever haunt him, would follow him while he walked to the quiet and lonely path, would haunt him while he tried in vain to sleep, would hurt more than he'd ever hurt before, every fucking time he thought of it.
He should have seen it coming, if he wasn't so stupid if he'd paid more attention he wouldn't wake up cold, learning that witchers can, in fact, feel, every single morning. He wouldn't feel guilt so suffocating he slowed a little with every new monster he killed, hoping maybe he would miss something and not have to miss Jaskier anymore.
It should have been obvious, Jaskier had been slowing for weeks before it was too late, weeks he could have done something, saved the one person that still mattered instead of standing by while he was being dragged from this world.
Rain, that was when it started, with a rainy day Jaskier decided was too beautiful to miss. His first real mistake started with the rain, when he'd let Jaskier lay on his back in the grass, the droplets of water falling over his body and soaking him through.
But he'd been so happy, singing to the grey clouds as they passed, kicking up puddles with loud laughs that Geralt was terrified he'd forget, grabbing Geralt's hands and spinning him in the rain while exclaiming that dancing in this weather was one of life's over-looked pleasures.
Geralt can remember thinking that Jaskier was life's greatest treasure, and sickening himself with the thought. Now, he would give anything to go back and tell him those words, wrap him in his arms on more time just to tell Jaskier that he was Geralt's greatest treasure, his greatest achievement, most beautiful sight, most anything and everything to him.
He would give anything to go back to that day and pull him out of the rain, get him dry and warm sooner instead of indulging him. But he'd been so damn happy, Geralt was blinded by his smile and his horrid dance moves while he slipped and fell into the slippery ground, all the while giggling and singing and enjoying life more than Geralt every thought someone could just because of the rain.
The fucking rain that had stolen that joy for life with such selfish abandon.
He kept on those wet clothes for hours, his teeth chattering and lips turning blue by the time they reached the inn they were heading to before the detour, Geralt should have never let it get to that point, should have got him into a hot bath sooner, to a healer before then even. But he hadn't.
For the next few days, nothing was wrong, Jaskier was still smiles that stole Geralt's breath away, still in Geralt's arms when they woke up. Messy hair and all, he was the most gorgeous thing Geralt had ever laid eyes on. He'd never been appreciative of the beauty the world had to offer, but when Jaskier was sleeping in his arms, he could see what all the poets meant when they spoke of perfection.
When he wakes up with empty arms, he could understand the other side of it. Willing himself back to sleep where, for a few mere moments he had Jaskier with him, holding Geralt's face in his hands and telling him he was beautiful, placing kisses from his forehead to the dot on his chin that Jaskier loved so much. Something he'd done often, something that Geralt never cherished enough, and could still feel if he thought back hard enough. It hurt, when he opened his eyes, the feeling of Jaskier's soft lips lingering on his nose, he was alone.
Gods he should have noticed the first time Jaskier sneezed, instead he'd mocked the small sound comparing Jaskier to kitten in the moment and thinking nothing of the cause. He was blind, had cost Jaskier more than he could ever repay, and himself more than he could ever imagine.
He should have noticed when Jaskier was cold one moment and hot the next, should have noticed when he turned down a night of performance due to a sore throat, should have noticed when there was sweat on his brow in the drafty inn, should have noticed, should have noticed, should have fucking noticed.
Instead, he noticed when Jaskier's knees gave out as he walked towards their bed for the night. He looked tired, Geralt was sat on the bed with his arms open, waiting for Jaskier to join him and sleep beside him once again.
Jaskier had smiled back at him as he took his last step, falling to the ground a second later.
Geralt had thought he'd known fear before, but when Jaskier didn't stand back up and joked about his clumsiness, time seemed to stop.
He ran from the bed and fell heavily to his knees beside Jaskier, calling his name while he tried to rouse him. He'd hit his head, simply gave way to exhaustion, any excuse he could think of for why he wouldn't wake up, but the pieces fit together slowly but all at once.
Jaskier was ill, had been since the fucking rain had caused it, and he noticed only when Jaskier collapsed with it.
He picked Jaskier up, never wanting to hold him like this again, and ran from their room towards the doctor they had passed earlier that day, the doctor he should have brought Jaskier to the second he saw it.
The moon was high, he can recall, because the streets were bright with it. Jaskier would have found so many words and synonyms and rhymes to describe how lovely it was. All Geralt could focus on was the pulse beneath his fingers in Jaskier's limp wrist and the panic that threatened to drown him when Jaskier remained still in his arms the entire way to the hospital.
He didn't knock, simply broke through the locked door of the small house, not prepared to take no for an answer, not when Jaskier's life was hanging in the balance.
"I need a doctor!" He'd yelled, hating how helpless, how desperate he'd sounded.
A groggy, angry-looking woman appeared a few moments later, her mouth open like she was ready to shout until he saw the scene before her. Geralt was frantic, eyes wide and breathing laboured, cradling Jaskier to his chest as if the man would shatter if he loosened his grip.
"Put him down here." She said simply, gesturing to a single bed while she began lighting candles in the room.
"What happened?"
"He's sick," Geralt could hardly find the words to answer while his mind was running through all the worst scenarios in his mind, praying to the gods he didn't believe in that Jaskier would wake up. He should have wished for so much more.
"When did he pass out?" She checked his pulse and opened each of his eyes, watching for any change in his condition while she prodded and handled him.
"A few minutes ago."
She hummed and placed her hand over his forehead, pulling it back only seconds later with a gasp.
"He's burning up, if this fever isn't brought down he certainly won't wake up."
"Then get his temperature down," He demanded, the fear morphing into more manageable emotions inside of him as he tried to ignore the pain of the inevitable coming sooner than he'd ever dreamed.
He always knew Jaskier would die, but not like this, not so young and so happy, Jaskier didn't deserve this.
"I- I don't know that I can. Usually, I would run him an ice bath but you haven't exactly caught me at a favourable time!"
He grimaced and looked around, not quite sure what he was looking for.
"You're a doctor, there must be a way you can treat him." He argued, not willing to accept that it was too late.
"I can try to get some cold water but I don't know if it would even be worth the effort."
He could have killed her on the spot for implying that Jaskier wasn't worth any and every sacrifice this world had to offer.
"Try.Anyway." He bared his teeth and growled low in his throat.
She huffed but nodded, retreating into the back rooms of her house and leaving Geralt alone with Jaskier.
Geralt kneeled beside the bed, eye level with Jaskier in this position.
He ran his finger along Jaskiers cheek, down his jaw, and across his lips. Continuing the trail into his hair and brushing the sweaty locks back out of his face. He could nearly convince himself that Jaskier was sleeping, that he would wake up in only moments and accuse Geralt of watching him while he slept, calling him a creep but letting the witcher stare. If it weren't for the unnatural heat coming off of him in waves.
Geralt did all he could to get his temperature down while he waited for the doctor to return, removing his shirt and trousers, leaving him in only his pants.
As he was wiping the sweat from his chest Jaskier groaned and blinked his eyes open. Geralt's heart stuttered in his chest as he dropped the cloth and moved to where Jaskier could clearly see him.
"Jaskier," He breathed the name with a small relieved smile on his face, that dropped when Jaskier looked around with no recognition of the present in his eyes.
"Jaskier? Can you hear me?" The bard flinched and turned towards the noise, the glaze over his eyes lifting when he saw Geralt. The few moments he was spared, Geralt had no way of knowing then, was the only mercy that he would be allowed that day. There was so much more he would have said.
"I'm in it bad huh?" He managed, a dry laugh escaping his lips while he looked around, clearly making his assumptions.
"You'll be fine, just a little sick." Geralt couldn't believe the words he was saying, he could smell the illness baking Jaskier from the inside out. He'd seen countless people succumb to fever, delirious, and gasping in pain. That was not an end fit for Jaskier.
"Don't be sad, love." Jaskier lifted a shaking, clammy hand to Geralt's face. Resting his fingertip on each spot he'd normally lay a kiss, starting on his forehead, then between his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his chin, smiling softly when Geralt closed his eyes and melted into the touch.
"I'm not sad." He whispered as he slowly let his eyes drift back open, taking that very same hand into his, hating how it was too weak to hold him back.
"I think this is it," Jaskier said after a moment, looking into Geralt's eyes as he said it.
"No, no you'll be okay,"
He smiled, "I love you, but I worry about letting you go." Geralt's throat burned, of course, Jaskier worried for him while he accepted his own death within seconds.
"I'll always save you Jaskier," His voice broke, it'd never done that before.
"Save yourself," Jaskier's voice was getting quieter.
"I can't,"
"I love you, Geralt." The witcher knew, then that Jaskier wouldn't come back from this. He dropped his head onto the bed, entire face scrunched in pain as he tried to get air into his lungs, horrible, ugly sounds scraping his throat.
"Don't wait up for me," Jaskier spoke softly, a smile clear in his voice as he let his eyes close for the very last time.
"Wait, wait I love you. I love you too Jaskier." He dropped his hand and immediately tried to shake him awake, he hadn't heard him say it.
"I love you," He said again, the image of Jaskier's body blurring as tears he didn't know he was able to shed welled up in his eyes.
"I love you too,"
It's been a month.
Sometimes he still turns to talk to Jaskier.
Every night he dreams he's still alive and with him, he wakes up and screams into the night until his throat is raw and he can feel nothing but the burning of his lungs.
Every day he goes back over that week and thinks of every single way he could have saved Jaskier, every sign that something wasn't okay, every way it was his fault.
But he always comes back to 'Save yourself' and knows he's letting Jaskier down.
He's sinking, he would give every second of his remaining life for a minute with Jaskier, for a second, for as long as it takes to say I love you.