This is the next real part of Oceans Away. It's also the last completely written fic, so the next one may be a little while, maybe a day or two. I've gotten your comments, and I feel so bad about how sad you were at those last two fics, but I hope this one and the next few raise your spirits just a little bit more. I hope you guys enjoy this.

Please note that this fic contains implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced child neglect, and an implied/referenced suicide attempt. If any of these warnings, trigger you, exit out of the story. Your mental health is worth more than a work of fiction.

Without further ado, please enjoy!

"I'm wasting here
Can anyone wash it all away?
I'm waiting here
For anyone to wash it all away.
Wash it all away."

~ Wash It All Away, Five Finger Death Punch

xxxxxxx

Blackness.

It's dark.

He knows nothing.

He feels nothing.

No, that's wrong. He feels something.

It's not much, but it's there.

Faint.

Out of reach.

He can't move, can't see. Where are his arms, his legs? He can't move his head. Does he even have a body? Where-?

"Everything is okay, my love. I will keep you safe and sound."

That voice.

He knows her.

Hello? he calls out. His voice. Where was his voice? Why couldn't he speak?

"Yes," comes the response, "I am here. Do not fret. It will all be over soon."

What's going on? Where am I?

"You are safe in my arms. I am holding you. I will not let you go, not until you are ready."

Ready? Ready for what?

"All will be clear soon enough. Rest."

He doesn't want to.

He does.

xxxxxxx

The blackness is gone.

It's blue. Light blue.

Something white is glistening above him, bright.

He wants to reach out.

He can't.

"Ah, you have awakened again."

Where am I?

"I thought I would bring you a little closer to the surface. I cannot let you go just yet, but I thought a little closeness might soothe you."

Soothe me?

"Yes. I know you are scared, worried. I know you are afraid that you cannot move, but I assure you, it is not my intention to trap you here. I only wish for you to recover."

Recover? Recover from what?

"The fall."

What fall? I fell? Fell from where? Where am I?

The sound of waves crashing on the shore echoed around him.

He knew that sound.

A sigh?

Seashells clinking replaced the waves. "I suppose you do remember some things. Good. It means you will be okay."

There was a doubt that I wasn't going to be?

"Of course not," the voice replied immediately, "but there was a doubt that you would be the same. Now I know I was wrong to ever think that way. You are stronger than you think."

The bright blue glimmering and rippling above him started to blur.

He felt heavy.

Tired.

"Rest, my child."

He didn't fight it.

xxxxxxx

Jaskier gasped as he was dumped unceremoniously onto muddy ground, hands fumbling desperately for purchase on any rock he could get his hands on. He huffed, sucking in as much air as he could, coughing up water in between gasps. Water streamed down every inch of him: his hair, his clothes, his skin.

Just over the sound of his harsh panting, he heard, "My apologies. I did not mean to be so rough, but you awoke earlier than I expected."

"Wha-?" Jaskier shakily pushed his upper half up, arms shaking from exertion, leaving his whole body to be a trembling mess. "What the fuck?"

He looked around at his surroundings. He was sitting on a riverbed in the middle of the woods. No one was near him, and he could barely make out the sounds of animals, prompting him to tilt his head to empty his ears of river water.

"Do you remember what happened?"

Jaskier blinked, pushing himself up a bit more to situate himself in an upright sitting position. He raised a hand to his aching head, closing his eyes as he tried to think. Flashes came to him. Music, rooms of people, a man with white hair...a mountain. He remembered a mountain.

He hissed in pain as his head throbbed painfully at the almost-memory. His heart started to hurt and, for a moment, he wondered if he was suffering from the beginnings of a heart attack.

The voice laughed, but even Jaskier knew it held nothing more than sadness. "No, my dear. You are not suffering from a heart attack. You are mourning."

"Mourning?" he murmured, opening his eyes blearily, fingers still massaging his temple, "What am I mourning?"

"Think. Remember."

Jaskier exhaled loudly, expressing his frustration, but complied. He closed his eyes once more and tried to remember.

The mountain, the mountain. He remembered standing on a mountain. The white-haired man was there. He was angry. Golden eyes flashed with fury, fury directed at him. There was a pang of loneliness in his chest. Something hurt. His heart? His lungs? Both?

"Calm yourself, my flower. It is okay."

A wave of comfort fell over him, and the pain dulled considerably, but it didn't go away. Jaskier didn't mind. It helped. It made things clearer. Why did pain make things clearer? He grit his teeth against the ache in his head. Pain. It reminded him of a time...Why couldn't he remember?

Loneliness. Solitude. That was all he could feel. It was cold, freezing. Snow. He remembered snow. He recalled a tavern. Yes, a tavern. A...lute? In his hands. He was playing. Fun. He had fun. He felt happiness, joy. It felt new...How long had it been since he felt happy?

"Three months. That is how long it had been since you last felt joy. You had not felt it for three months before the tavern."

"What?" Jaskier hissed, fingers twitching against his hairline, "What happened to me?"

"Remember."

Jaskier growled in frustration. Mountain, angry man, loneliness, snow, a tavern, playing a lute, being happy...a cliff. He sucked in a sharp breath. There was a cliff. A steep one. There were waves below. He'd felt...sad. Overwhelmingly so. Despair, hurt, sorrow. He remembered emotional pain so great, it was almost physical. Pain. He remembered.

Jaskier's eyes flew open, head snapping up to stare at the river in front of him. "I jumped," he whispered.

"Yes,"the voice answered sadly, "You did, but I caught you. I nursed you back to health. Now, you are here."

It all came flowing back to him. The fight on the mountain, the three months he spent alone, playing in the tavern, jumping off the cliff, the ocean talking to him.

Geralt.

"Ah, so you remember his name."

"Geralt," Jaskier murmured, cradling his head in his hands. "I remember now."

He shook his head, trying to make sense of all the memories overwhelming him. Twenty-two years of following Geralt around. He recalled the heartbreak, the hurt. Jaskier dug his fingers into his scalp, pulling at his hair.

"Geralt. Geralt...he was there." Jaskier dug his fingers in deeper. "I heard him. Before I jumped. He was there."

The voice hummed. "He was. He saw you. He tried to catch you, but it was too late."

Jaskier felt his heart stop, and he clutched at his chest as a sharp gasp escaped him. "Fuck. Oh, Gods. I thought...Oh, Melitele."

"Calm yourself, Jaskier. Everything will be alright," the voice soothed,

Jaskier's hands dropped. "How do you know that?!" he snapped, gesturing wildly. "I don't know where I am, or how long it's been! For fuck's sake, I tried to kill myself! And Geralt saw!" Jaskier's voice stuttered to a stop as one last memory flooded back to him.

"And...and you told me I wouldn't be that same. That my 'human body' couldn't survive the fall." He scrambled to the edge of the river and glared down at his reflection. Bright blue eyes, brown hair, cherry red lips, and pale skin stared back at him. He looked the same, didn't feel much different... "What did you mean?"

For a moment, the voice was quiet. Then, a soft sigh echoed around him. "Step into the river."

"What?"

"Step into the river. Come to me."

Jaskier hesitated, breath pausing as he contemplated entering the same place he'd spent who knows how long in. With a deep breath, Jaskier shed his doublet and undershirt and clambered to his feet, legs shaking from disuse. He stumbled - very ungracefully - into the water, noticing how the cold barely affected him and how his clothes remained dry. Jaskier waded with bated breath into the middle of the river, feet no longer touching the ground. He moved his arms in an attempt to keep himself afloat.

"Now close your eyes and think. Imagine yourself becoming one with the river. Let your worries melt away. Focus on floating, how the water moves around you. Flow with the motions. Be...flexible."

Closing his eyes in the middle of the water certainly didn't rank high on his bucket list, but Jaskier complied, letting his eyes shut and focusing on treading water. He let his arms and legs move in a repetitive motion, letting the pattern become as instinctual as playing scales on his lute. Once he got the basic motions down, he exhaled deeply and heightened his attention on the water. He focused on the feeling of the water pushing against him, the water colliding with his body before diverging around his limbs and resuming its journey. He sensed how the water seemed to hold him, cradle him, press in on his body. It felt...natural.

"There. You are understanding," the voice praised, sounding a bit proud of Jaskier. "Now let yourself go."

What? he thought, still attempting to concentrate on the movement of the water.

"Ease yourself into letting your surroundings melt away. You are safe here. This is your home."

Home.

When was the last time he had a home?

Jaskier moved his legs to tread water once more when he realized his legs weren't fully cooperating anymore. They felt stuck together, glued into one as he tried to kick out. Fear flushed cold through his veins, eyes flying open and flicking down to look through the clear water. His heart nearly stopped at the sight.

What the fuck?!

The voice, on the other hand, sounded absolutely delighted, seashells clinking loudly in his ears. "Yes, my sweet flower! You did it! Well done!"

"Done it?" Jaskier repeated incredulously, still attempting to kick his legs out to keep himself afloat. His skin shivered as his...tail flicked back and forth in spastic motions. He glared down at his reflection again, trying to hide his wince at the scales on his face. He shivered when he caught sight of his pointed teeth - almost like daggers - and how his eyes had brightened to a shocking blue, pupils now slits in the irises. "What the fuck is happening? Why do I have a tail?!"

The voice hummed. "You remember when I said that your human body could not survive that fall. I told you I would help you, make you into something that was not unlike you already."

"I didn't have a damn tail!" Jaskier cried out, shooting a look at his now bare torso and arms, which were covered with translucent scales glimmering in the sunlight. His fingernails had lengthened a bit and came to a razor-sharp point. Staring just past his hands, his stomach rolled uncomfortably at the sight of his dark blue tail flicking beneath the surface, his scales catching the sunlight and glinting with a rainbow hue. Fins lined the back of his tail, the membrane displaying a much paler blue - almost green - color to them. The same went for the fins at the very end. If he hadn't been so afraid, he probably would have found them to be gorgeous.

But no, he was very afraid.

"No, you did not. What you did have, however, was a beautiful singing voice and an adoration for water, so I turned you into a creature with just those qualities."

Jaskier's breath hitched in his throat. Oh, Gods...

"You are now a Siren."

xxxxxxx

Jaskier didn't talk to the voice for a week after that. Instead, he managed to swim back to shore using mainly his arms, refusing to look at his new scales or use his tail. Begrudgingly, he listened to the voice's directions on how to get his legs back and withdraw his scales, but after that, he ignored any advance she made to strike up a conversation. He still bathed in the river daily, but he always exited as fast as he could. It didn't take long for her to understand his need for space. Distinctly, guilt clawed in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it aside. He just needed a moment.

This was...a lot.

Jaskier looked down at his trembling hands, sitting down on a fallen log near the fire he had started in his measly campsite. He had nothing to help him. No bedroll, no tent, no coin...no lute. Jaskier's heart clenched. Had he known the ocean would catch him, he would have dived off with the lute still strapped to his back.

He shook his head vehemently at himself. No. He couldn't do that, especially not to Filavandrel's lute. The elf king earned far more respect than Jaskier could offer. His lute did not deserve to be tainted by Jaskier's negativity and weak will.

Thinking back on it, to that night when he jumped, Jaskier could only feel disappointment. Why had he jumped? Dying seemed so easy at the moment, but he hadn't fought so hard to live, trudged through months of snowfalls and rain and hunger and loneliness, only to throw it all away in a second's decision. He regretted taking that step off the cliff. If he'd only given himself just a little bit more time to wallow, to grieve, maybe he would have been okay. It wasn't as if there were no options available to him. He could have played in taverns from time to time - his coin bag had been more than full by the end of that night - and, once he felt even the slightest bit better, started to work his way into royal courts again.

Why did he jump?

He remembered a time when he loved life as much as he loved music. He fell in love with everyone, bedded anyone, and cared for all. He recalled moments in his life when he gave and gave and gave. He gave to the barmaids in a tavern. He gave to innkeepers and butchers, to knights and nobles, to men and women. He gave all he had. And then he surrendered all of himself - every last drop - to a certain white-haired witcher.

How could he have been so foolish? One of the first things his father beat into him as a child was to trust no one, love no one. People only served to disappoint, but Jaskier could never call to mind a moment where he had been disappointed. It was never someone else's fault. It was always his. Maybe Geralt had been right. Maybe he did shovel all the shit that happened to the two of them over the past twenty-two years. Maybe everything happened because of him.

Jaskier sighed, head dropping into his shaking hands. Where did his love go? He used to think he held an infinite amount, that he would never run out. He loved and loved and loved. It was the one thing he truly knew how to do. Where did it all fall apart?

"You do have love, Jaskier. You just fail to love yourself."

Jaskier's head shot up, an inexplicable feeling of anger rising in his chest. Why was she here?

"I am sorry. I thought...I thought if I gave you this form, perhaps you would be able to realize what you were missing out on."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jaskier snarled. "I'm a Siren. I'm a monster, the very things I used to watch Geralt cut down. I'm something people fear. How can I love them if all they want to do is hate me?"

The voice sighed, a melancholic tone in his ears that hurt his heart. "My love, you are not a monster. A monster seeks to harm, to kill, to hate. You are incapable of such despicable acts. Even if you do kill one day, I know it will not be of malicious intent. It will be out of self-defense, that I know. You are still the beautiful Dandelion who placed buttercups in my streams in Lettenhove."

Jaskier shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"You are. I remember the flowers you left to drift in my streams, the times you sat on my river beds. I remember the days when you would play in my lakes and ponds, let my waterfalls cascade over you. You loved me so dearly, sang me a lullaby so long ago now, when I first came to you on that sleepless night. I remember you from then, and I see you now. You are the same Julian I met all those years ago."

"He died when I jumped off that cliff," Jaskier bit out angrily.

"No," the voice replied sternly, "he did not. He was hurting and broken. He just needed someone to piece him together. Now, he is scarred, but only a little. Scars are not something to be ashamed of. They are a memory, a lesson. You are the same Jaskier I have always known, just a little grown."

Jaskier tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, tears building at the corners of his eyes. He tried to speak, but words failed him, caught. Instead, he just grit his teeth and bowed his head as the tears spilled down his cheeks. His body trembled with forceful sobs. The voice murmured soft consolations as he cried, unable to hold him as well as she could have if he had been in the water.

He didn't know how long he cried, but he soon found his body feeling heavy. He slid himself down from the log, landing on the forest ground. Shifting to lay down on his side with his arm as a pillow, Jaskier closed his eyes, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face. Who would see them? No one. Because he was alone.

"No, you are not alone. You never have been."

Jaskier chuckled quietly, a sad and pitiful sound escaping his throat. "You said earlier...that you wanted me to see what I was missing out on. What am I missing?"

The voice hummed gently. "You remember the cliffside, yes?"

"You know I do."

"Do you remember what you heard?"

Jaskier swallowed thickly, trying to recall the moments where he stepped off. He thought back to the fall. Stepping forward...again...once more...

"Jaskier!"

Falling...falling...falling...

"No!"

Jaskier's hands clenched into tight fists, nails digging into his palm, and he curled himself up tighter, trying to ignore how his face burned with shame. "Geralt..." he whispered, voice cracking.

"When we were walking to the village, you asked me if I thought he meant what he said on the mountain."

"You told me it was something I had to answer for myself."

"I did. Do you have your answer now?"

Jaskier frowned, opening his eyes and staring at the fire flickering a few feet away from him. "No? Him being there doesn't mean anything."

"Does it not? He called for you, reached for you as you fell."

Jaskier's heart stuttered at thought of what Geralt reaching for him must've looked like. "Geralt saves people. It's what he does."

"He saves people from monsters. Do you really think he would go out of his way in the middle of winter's darkest night to save someone he did not know needed saving, much less someone he did not know at all?"

"He's helped people before without monsters," Jaskier argued, but even he was starting to see her point.

"My darling, it would have been nigh impossible to know if someone was standing on the cliff's edge. It was far too dark, too cold for anyone to be out. It would have been incredibly difficult for him to pick out your scent with the wind blowing in every direction. What does that tell you?"

Jaskier shifted uncomfortably. He pretended it was because of the hard dirt he was laying on. "It doesn't mean anything."

"There is a difference between it not meaning anything and you not wanting it to mean something."

"Does it matter?" Jaskier huffed, frowning like a petulant child.

"It does. Who was the last person on your mind when you fell?"

"Geralt," Jaskier whispered, even though no one else could hear him, "He...actively looked for me."

The voice hummed in agreement. "Yes, that would be a fair answer, would it not?" Jaskier swore she sounded a bit sarcastic.

"Why would he look for me?"

"Well, why would you look for someone?"

"What I would do versus what Geralt would do is completely different."

"I know you are not that shallow, Jaskier. After all, you are the only person in the world to boast that witchers feel emotions."

"He was very clear about what he felt during the dragon hunt, thank you very much," Jaskier hissed.

"Was the anguish in his voice when you fell not emotional enough for you?"

"He hasn't apologized."

"Jaskier, you stepped off a cliff. I do not think there was ample time to apologize," she deadpanned.

Jaskier huffed out a resigned laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." He fell silent, mulling it all over in his head. "Do you think he actually cares?"

"I cannot speak-"

"-for another. Yes, you've said that before," Jaskier rolled his eyes, "Just humor me."

The voice hesitated. "Yes," she said, "I do believe so."

The relief Jaskier expected to feel didn't come. Instead, his chest only tightened, an overwhelming sense of regret, shame, and sorrow filled him. Of course. Geralt always did have shitty timing. The one second Jaskier actually wanted to end his life - and almost succeeded in doing so - Geralt decided to show up. Destiny must really fucking hate the both of them.

Jaskier exhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes once more as he tried to settle himself for sleep. "How long has it been? Since the cliff?"

"Hm. Including this past week, I would say about a month and half."

Jaskier tried to hide the horror he felt at having lost out on over a month of his life, a time he couldn't remember on top of that. "A month and a half, huh?" he replied quietly. A huff fell from his lips. "You know, all this time, and I have yet to know your name."

"Hm. Well, I am water. I am the oceans, the seas, the lakes, the rivers, the ponds, the streams...I suppose if you called me any of those, it would suffice."

"It would suffice," Jaskier repeated, "but there is something you would rather be called, isn't there?"

"...My name has not been used in many, many decades."

"You turned me into a Siren. I think I should have the privilege of being the first to say your name in however long it's been," Jaskier snorted.

"Yes, I suppose so..." he voice paused. "You may call me Oaris."

"Oaris..." Jaskier murmured, letting the name roll off his tongue, "like oasis but...Oaris..." Jaskier smiled. "It's pretty."

A gentle breeze that smelled distinctly like the ocean air ruffled his hair. "Thank you, beautiful Dandelion. Your names are pretty as well."

Jaskier chuckled. "You know all the pet names aren't necessary, right? 'Jaskier' works just fine."

"I will call you any name I please," Oaris retorted, but there was a blissful lilt to her voice that hadn't been there before in the time he had known her.

"Okay, okay," Jaskier conceded, "Who am I to argue with water herself?"

Oaris laughed. "Sleep, my little flower. Tomorrow, we teach you to use that tail of yours."

Jaskier's heart skipped a beat, trying to quell the fear sparking within him. "Oaris, will I...will I be like other Sirens? You know, the ones that...kill people?"

"No," Oaris said firmly. "I meant what I said before, I know you. You will never kill unless you need to. Choosing to kill is entirely on the person. Sirens choose to kill, choose to be monsters. In reality, they could be just as peaceful as you. No, you will not be like the other Sirens. You will be the same Jaskier with an added...bonus."

"Good...good," Jaskier mumbled sleepily.

Oaris chuckled, and another soft ocean breeze tickled him again. "Sleep, my lovely flower. I will always be here."

With one last deep exhale, Jaskier drifted off to sleep with dreams of the open sea.

I'm going to be completely honest: I had Siren!Jaskier planned from the get-go.

Then I read your comments on AO3.

You guys had some really great ideas! You said he could be a water nymph, or that his mom was a water nymph, or that he could be an amalgamation of sea creatures, and I'm just like, "Dammit! Why didn't I think of that?!" So I saw your suggestions, and I really loved them. You guys can be really creative.

Other than that, though, I hoped you guys enjoyed this anyway, despite the fact that it's just another cliche Siren!Jaskier fic. Sorry about that. Thank you all for reading!