Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters and make no money with this.

When sorrow sang

Chapter 1: Regrets

The way down the mountain was just as long and tedious as the hike up had been but Geralt didn't mind. Life had already thrown the worst it possibly could at him today. A mind-numbingly long march was nothing in comparison to the tears in Yennefer's eyes, tears he had caused with his long-ago actions. He would never forget how she had looked when she learned the truth, and the way she had turned her back on him and left him behind would forever haunt him in the darkest hours of the night.

The unwanted reminder of the Child Surprise, a thoughtless mistake he'd made years ago, had only served to fuel his anger and frustration, made them boil and bubble in every vein and artery like magma in the bowels of the earth. All it had taken to unleash it all, to make Geralt lose control, was Jaskier's false and ill-timed cheerfulness prodding and poking at festering wounds.

"Damn it, Jaskier!" he had shouted. "Why is it, whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you shoveling it?"

"That's not fair," Jaskier had said as he stood there above him, all of a sudden looking very small despite the advantage of height he had in that moment. The words had been said a little too quietly and without any of Jaskier's usual exuberance, yet Geralt had been too angry to notice any of it, hadn't listened.

"The Child Surprise!" he'd kept on roaring. "The djinn, all of it! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"

He'd turned around, the anger still viciously simmering beneath the very surface of his skin and barely contained, unable to look at Jaskier's face for even a second longer. But that didn't stop him from hearing the disappointment in Jaskier's voice when he said farewell, the hurt Jaskier just couldn't hide beneath fake nonchalance even though he desperately tried, and then, finally, the sound of worn boots on gravel, walking away. It was in that moment that Geralt realized that he'd just pushed his … whatever Jaskier was to him – bard, travel companion, friend – away for good.

He should be happy about that. It was what he'd wanted since the moment Jaskier wandered into his life, after all. But as much as Geralt tried to feel relieved when the bard's footsteps faded in the distance, he just couldn't – not when the emptiness Yennefer left in her wake only grew with every step Jaskier took away from him. It spread to the very edges of Geralt's being until he felt hollow and carved out, and it tugged at him viciously, urging him to turn around and go after Jaskier, to apologize and fix the one thing he had the power to make right on this cursed day.

The notion was ridiculous, of course. Geralt would do no such thing. What he'd said to Jaskier had only been the truth, even if the words had been spoken in anger. Ever since the day he met Jaskier trouble seemed to follow him wherever he went, just like the bard's tiresome songs. It was Jaskier's fault he'd been at the ball in Cintra in the first place where his whole life, his fucking destiny, had changed with a few carelessly uttered words. It had also been Jaskier's fault that he'd met Yennefer – and nothing good had come out of that chance meeting, either.

No, Geralt would not apologize for speaking only the truth. He was glad to be finally rid of the bard. Or he would be, in time. Who knew what other trouble would have found him if they'd continued to travel together? There was only so much destiny one could take, and Geralt hadn't even begun to unfuck all the messes he was already in thanks to Jaskier. He had no need for more trouble and foolish bards that caused it.

But leaving Jaskier behind was easier said than done. It merely took a few short hours for Geralt to stumble upon him again. There was only one way down the mountain, after all, one road to follow, and it had led Geralt straight to the campsite overlooking the canyon where they'd all spent the night before. Yennefer's tent was gone, as was she, and Geralt wasn't surprised by that at all. Why walk down a mountain when a portal could take you anywhere? The dwarves were long gone, too, probably using more hidden passages only known to them to deliver the dragon teeth and claim their prize.

And yet the campsite wasn't deserted. Alone, with only his trusted lute as companion, Jaskier sat in front of a pitiful fire, strumming his instrument with almost absentminded fingers. His hands were trembling, something Geralt had never seen them do before, and that was startling enough to make him pause at the edge of the clearing, just out of sight.

"Her current is pulling you closer," Jaskier sang quietly, vacant eyes staring at some point on the horizon without seeing anything at all. He was singing about Geralt and Yennefer, and their ill-fated romance. Of course he was, Geralt thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Normally, he wouldn't have given a fuck about that. He would have walked on and left the bard behind for good. But something seemed off about Jaskier, something was different, and it kept him rooted to the spot. Maybe it was the rawness he heard in Jaskier's voice, or the way Jaskier swallowed hard between the verses as if he had trouble holding in his emotions.

In the end it didn't matter why he stayed. He did, and for once he was not just hearing but listening, entranced by words, voice and sight. This was a Jaskier he had rarely seen before: one who was quiet, serious and without any of the theatrics Geralt had gotten so used to over time. It felt strange to see him like this, so open and vulnerable.

And then Jaskier sang a line that burned itself into Geralt's mind, never to be forgotten.

"I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting," he sang softly, and his voice broke with so much sorrow Geralt could feel it in his very bones.

This was new. The Jaskier he knew wrote epic ballads and witty drinking songs – songs that were entertaining and left his audience with a tune stuck in their heads for days. He wasn't one for singing songs about heartbreak, songs that laid his personal feelings bare for all the world to see. And Geralt had no doubt that Jaskier's emotional lyrics came straight from his heart. He could hear it.

His resolve to leave the bard behind for good and without an apology began to crumble into dust as he realized that this song had never been just about him and Yennefer. It was about all three of them, about the way Jaskier allowed Geralt to treat him – and about the way he felt, and what he wanted so desperately and believed he had no hope of ever getting.

Almost unwillingly, Geralt thought back to the almost one-sided conversation they'd had in this very place only a mere day ago. At the time he hadn't understood what Jaskier had been truly asking him when he suggested heading to the coast, what he'd hoped for when he said, "I'm just … just trying to work out what pleases me."

There had been so much more to Jaskier's words than Geralt had heard at the time. He had been so completely unaware of the hidden meaning between the lines, of all the things Jaskier hadn't said, that he hadn't realized what Jaskier had been trying to tell him all this time.

Had he been a mortal man, the realization that Jaskier wanted to be with him would have left Geralt staggering. Instead he stood there frozen at the edge of the campsite as the hollow emptiness inside him turned into a wave of regret that was both unfamiliar and unwanted. This was the very reason he didn't have many people in his life that were more than fleeting acquaintances. You got attached, you started to care and all that ever led to was somebody getting hurt.

Only three people in this world had that kind of hold over him and could make him do things he would otherwise consider foolish or a waste of time: the Child Surprise, loath as he was to admit it, Yennefer and Jaskier. Out of all of them, Jaskier was the only one who had chosen to be connected to him, who'd walked a part of his life beside Geralt out of his own free will despite being aware of the fact that he was neither wanted not needed.

"Look, why don't we leave tomorrow?" he had said only yesterday. "That is, if you'll give me another chance to prove myself a worthy travel companion."

Ever since they'd known each other the only thing Jaskier had wanted was to travel with him, to be by his side and share in Geralt's adventures. He had never asked for more, never pressured Geralt for anything but his company, and yet Geralt had used every possible opportunity to make him feel like a nuisance and a burden.

Unwanted.

He saw the result of his actions plain and clear in Jaskier's eyes now, in the tears that threatened to fall and in the way he choked up and finally had to abandon his song altogether.

"Fuck," Geralt murmured under his breath as Jaskier buried his head in his knees, his shoulders shaking with the tell-tale sign of distress born from grief.

He turned away from the sight, unable to bear it. He had caused this. Jaskier had put up with so much from him since the day they met without batting an eye, and now Geralt had managed what no monster, no beast, no ungrateful townsfolk had been able to do: he'd pushed Jaskier to his breaking point with only a few uncontrolled words hastily spoken in anger.

Looking back on it, Geralt realized he had only been angry at himself up on that cursed mountain, at his life and the choices he'd made. He'd had no right to take his anger out on Jaskier like that, to make him pay the price for his frustration with Yennefer. All Jaskier had been trying to do was to cheer Geralt up, to pull his thoughts away from his loss with a few upbeat words – tactless ones, perhaps, but well-meant all the same, as Geralt now understood with the clarity of a calm mind.

The accusations he had thrown at Jaskier a few hours ago might not have been completely wrong but they weren't the whole truth, either. Yes, Jaskier had dragged him to the ball in Cintra – but he was not responsible for Geralt's subsequent actions that earned him a Child of Surprise. And yes, Jaskier had squabbled with him over the Djinn but it had been Geralt, sleep-deprived, who had played along instead of putting an end to it before things could escalate. It also wasn't Jaskier's fault that they had met Yennefer after that, or what Geralt used his last wish for and the wheels that decision set in motion.

Jaskier might have been a catalyst for all those things but in the end Geralt could only blame himself for the consequences he now faced. He had wronged the bard up on the mountain. He had wronged him terribly. It was a bitter realization, and it made Jaskier's tears a lot harder to bear than Yennefer's. With Yennefer, Geralt had been trying to save a life. He hadn't meant to hurt her in the process, or to cause her pain. That had been unintentional, an after-effect of a well-meant deed. But with Jaskier, Geralt had been intentionally cruel. He had lashed out at him viciously, had picked every word to inflict as much damage as possible. He had wanted to hurt Jaskier as much as he could, to take from him his cheerfulness and optimism and make him feel as miserable as Geralt had felt in that very moment.

And he'd succeeded.

It made him feel sick to his stomach. Geralt didn't want to be this kind of person, the one who left a wasteland of sorrow in his wake. Only a monster would prey on the insecurities of others and use them against them. Only a monster would want to kill the light inside his friends that made them laugh and smile.

And only a monster intentionally caused others pain and enjoyed it.

What had Jaskier called him in his first song, written so long ago? A friend of humanity. That's what Geralt wanted to be, had strived to be for all this time and yet managed to completely ruin in one day with a handful of furious words. He'd hurt the one person who had always stood by him no matter what, who seemed to genuinely enjoy his company and wished for nothing more in his life than to travel with him to the ends of the world and back again.

Such a simple wish, and asked so tentatively out of fear of rejection, and Geralt had taken it and torn it to shreds without a second thought. Jaskier hadn't deserved that. He hadn't deserved any of the cruel words Geralt had thrown at him in the past. How many tears had Jaskier shed in private because of him and his thoughtlessness? How often had he feared waking up in the morning to find Geralt gone and himself alone and abandoned once more? How often had he wished for a kind word, a gentle hand or a soft smile to be returned in kind?

Too often, Geralt would wager.

He knew he couldn't change the past, or take back what he had said and done, but he could strive to be better. It wouldn't kill him to be more kind, to appreciate those around him a little more, Jaskier first and foremost. He had to try at least, for both Jaskier's sake and his own, and he had to find a way to close the rift between them he had caused lest the chasm became so wide it would be unsurmountable – and Geralt knew he needed to start now, tonight, no matter what. This was something that couldn't wait, not another day, not another hour.

He had to fix this now.

He just hoped he wasn't too late.