Geralt's thoughts must be as desperate as he feels because it only takes minutes for a portal to begin to appear a few feet away from them. Sparks crackle in the air, pulling the fabric of space out of the way to allow Yennefer to step through into the field.

"Geralt, what the fuck."

Yennefer takes in the scene, then runs over to them and drops to her knees next to Jaskier. He's still conscious and breathing shallowly, but Geralt's fur is quickly turning red from the blood spilling from his wound.

Save him, Geralt thinks, nosing at Yennefer's hands. She gives him a look that's half exasperation, half apology, then nudges him out of the way. Magic thrums beneath her fingertips as she closes her eyes, murmuring something too quiet for Geralt to catch. A shimmering white glow spreads outward from her hands, dipping down into the wound and appearing to pull it shut with stitches made of light.

"That should hold for now," she says once the bleeding has stopped. Then she sits back on her heels and looks at Geralt with one eyebrow raised. "You know who you are, then?"

Geralt growls at her, baring his teeth.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have been such a colossal ass then, hmm?"

Before Geralt can attempt to argue, Yennefer stands up and holds her hand out above Jaskier. After a second, his body starts to move, pulled upward and toward the portal by magic.

"Well," Yennefer says, looking back at Geralt with a raised eyebrow. "Are you coming?"

Stepping through the portal is disorienting and Geralt nearly falls on his face when it closes behind them. He half-expects to be human again, but he retains his four paws and tail as he pads through the hallways of Yennefer's home, following Jaskier's floating body. Eventually they come to a small, comfortable-looking room with a large bed, and Yennefer settles Jaskier into the middle of it.

"I'll be back," she says, then disappears down the hall.

Geralt hops up onto the bed immediately, curling up and resting his head on Jaskier's arm. He whines and licks Jaskier's cheek, but there's no response – only the slow rise and fall of Jaskier's chest.

My fault, Geralt thinks. The day on the mountain is clear in his mind, now – the fight, the dragon, the angry words he'd shouted at Jaskier. Despite being irritated at Yennefer for the curse, Geralt can't bring himself to be angry at anyone but himself. I'm sorry, he thinks, curling his tail up around himself as he shuffles closer to Jaskier. It should have been me.

Yennefer tends to Jaskier's wounds with the careful efficiency of a battle medic, and it's not until she's thrown away the dirty fabric and washed her hands that she finally puts her hands on her hips and stares at Geralt.

"He'll be fine," she reassures him. "Have you learned your lesson?"

Geralt huffs, shuffling closer to Jaskier and resting his head on his chest.

"I'll take that as a yes." Yennefer watches the two of them for a second, then reaches out her hand. Geralt looks at her suspiciously at first, then gives in and lets her stroke the soft fur of his nose. When her fingers find the spot behind his ears, he sighs and leans into it, thumping his tail on the bed.

"You're much more agreeable like this," Yennefer says. Geralt attempts to look indignant, but with his head on Jaskier's chest and his tail wagging, he's sure he's not particularly frightening.

Sorry, he thinks. Yennefer nods, seemingly able to understand him. Was angry. Not at you. Or him. At myself.

"Well, that doesn't give you the right to act like you did."

I know.

"You hurt him."

I'm sorry.

"He loves you."

Geralt pauses at that, looking up at her without moving his head. He knows – has known for a while, he thinks, even before he'd become a wolf. But caring is difficult, and nobody has ever loved him, and he's terrified.

I love him, too.

Yennefer nods, shifting closer to Geralt on the bed. She looks younger than he remembers.

I'm sorry. For the wish.

Yennefer shrugs. "We all fuck up." Geralt makes a low sound of agreement. "You more than others," she adds, and Geralt is about to growl at her when he realizes she's smiling. "You've changed, though. I think it's time to turn you back."

Geralt's initial excitement at the words quickly shifts to apprehension and he turns his attention back to Jaskier.

Not yet, Geralt thinks. He doesn't want the first thing that Jaskier sees when he wakes up to be the man who broke his heart.

"Geralt," Yennefer says cautiously. "You can't pretend forever."

It's not pretending.

"It is."

He sighs, shifting up and nosing at Jaskier's cheek.

I'm better this way. He doesn't hate me.

Yennefer shakes her head. "He doesn't hate the human you, either," she insists. "He's just angry, and he has every right to be. You owe him an apology and you can't do that like this."

Geralt whines quietly. I know, he thinks. I know, just… wait? He looks up at Yennefer. Please?

Yennefer looks like she might argue, then nods and stands from her spot on the bed. "All right," she says. "But you're going to have to face your mistakes eventually."

Jaskier wakes slowly, both in a moderate amount of pain and incredibly well-rested. He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes and attempting to sit up when he realizes that there's something heavy on his chest.

"Geralt," he whispers, running his fingers through the wolf's thick fur. Geralt makes a soft snuffling noise, cuddling closer to Jaskier, then slowly opens his eyes as he realizes that Jaskier is awake. "Hey," Jaskier says. "You okay?"

Geralt immediately starts to whine, shuffling up the bed as his tail starts to wag furiously.

"I'm fine," Jaskier insists, laughing when Geralt starts to frantically nose at him and lick his cheek. "I'm sorry I worried you." He strokes Geralt's head and presses their foreheads together, sighing at the comfortable familiarity of the wolf's presence. Then he frowns, looking around the room. "Where are we?"

When he moves to get out of bed, Geralt whines and grabs the fabric of his sleeve. Jaskier frowns, realizing that his chest and stomach are bandaged. It takes him a second, but the memories of the fight start to come back to him in hazy flashes.

"The werewolf—did you…"

Geralt gives him a soft woof and Jaskier sighs in relief. "Are you hurt?" he asks, running his hands down Geralt's side and finding the dried blood. "What happened?" He pauses when he realizes there's no wound. "Ah. My blood, then?"

There's a soft knock at the door and Jaskier looks up, eyes widening when he recognizes Yennefer. She raises her eyebrows at him as she walks over to the bed and begins to prod at his wound.

"How's the pain?" she asks.

"Um." Jaskier looks back down to the wolf, then frowns at Yennefer. "How, uh… how did I get here? And where is here? Why are you helping me, anyway, don't you—"

"Geralt's right, you talk far too much." Yennefer reaches out and pats the wolf's head. "He saved your life. I helped you because I owed him."

Jaskier is about to nod when the pieces of information finally start to slide together in his brain.

"Wait, Geralt?" He looks back down at the wolf, who licks his hand and looks apologetic. "How did you know I called him that? And what do you mean he owes you, he's a wolf, he—"

Another puzzle piece slips into place, and when he looks back to Yennefer, her contrite expression confirms it.

"You're Geralt," Jaskier says to the wolf, who looks away from him. "Actual Geralt, you're—you fucking arsehole, you lied to me!" He tries to push himself up on his elbow but Yennefer puts a hand on his shoulder and pushes him back into bed.

"He didn't lie to you," she says, but Jaskier shakes his head. The contentment from earlier is quickly shifting into a mix of embarrassment and anger, and he tries to push the wolf away.

"He did," he insists. "He pretended to be this—he didn't tell me. What, was he too much of a coward to talk to me after being such a colossal prick so he decided to magic himself into something more sympathetic?"

"He didn't know," Yennefer insists. "I did it."

"And he had the audacity to—" Yennefer's words catch up to Jaskier's brain and he blinks. "Wait, you did this?"

She nods, then reaches out her hand and touches Geralt's forehead. Jaskier's eyes widen as Geralt yelps, then slowly starts to shift. His muzzle retracts, ears slowly losing their fur and moving to the side of his head as his paws turn to fingers. After a second, there's a very naked, very human Geralt sitting on the bed next to Jaskier and staring down at his hands.

"I'll leave you two to it," Yennefer says, and before Jaskier can protest, she's across the room and out the door, leaving the two of them in an awkward silence.

"I'm—"

"Shut up," Jaskier hisses. He shuffles backward, wincing in pain but forcing himself to sit up and move away from Geralt "I can't believe you."

"Jaskier, I—"

"First, you're the biggest twat I've ever known – and I'm familiar with most of the bastards and bitches, you know that – and then you have the audacity to pretend to—"

"Jaskier, would you just listen?" Geralt sighs, rubbing his face. Then he grabs the pillow next to Jaskier and pulls it into his lap, giving himself a small sense of modesty. Jaskier grinds his teeth and refuses to look at Geralt's chest.

"Why should I listen?"

"Because I'm sorry."

Jaskier stills.

"You're what?"

"Sorry." Geralt's voice is contrite, which isn't something Jaskier has ever heard before. It's satisfying in a vindictive sort of way, but he figures he's owed it. "I was cruel, I treated you unfairly, and I'm sorry."

Jaskier plays with a loose thread in the blanket, winding it around his finger and tugging at it until it breaks.

"Why didn't you say something before?" he asks eventually. "Try to—to communicate, somehow?"

"I didn't know." Geralt sounds so sincere, and when Jaskier finally looks at him, he can't find any lie in his expression. "The magic – Yennefer's curse – it changed me. I tried to find you, but then… I forgot."

"Forgot?"

Geralt nods. "Even once I found you, I didn't really remember. I knew that I knew you, but not why, or…" He continues talking, more than Jaskier has ever heard him say, and when he finally gets to the end of the story, he tacks on another, "I'm sorry."

Jaskier sighs, tipping his head back against the wall and staring up at the patterns on the ceiling. "You weren't there," he says quietly. "You hurt me, you—you broke my heart. I know you didn't know, but you did, and then I needed you and you weren't there, and I missed you."

"I would change it, if I could," Geralt says quietly.

"Can't change the past," Jaskier insists.

Geralt nods in agreement. "We can change the future, though," he says.

"What do you mean?"

"Travel with me again," Geralt says. He holds out his hand tentatively, almost as if he still expects it to be a paw. "Please? Let me make it up to you."

Jaskier stares at his hand for a long time. The mountain was so long ago, but it stings like it was yesterday. His heart had hurt for so long, and there's still an ache of bitterness that runs through his veins. But then he thinks of the wolf, of how he'd kept Jaskier safe, of how they'd fought together and slept together and ate together and had fit so easily into each other's lives. Even with the anger, he doesn't want to lose that again.

"I get to ride Roach," he says eventually, taking Geralt's hand.

"You… what?"

"You heard me." Jaskier runs his thumb across Geralt's knuckles, then gives him a wry grin. "Think of it as penance. You have a lot to make up for."

Geralt looks like he might argue, then nods and squeezes Jaskier's hand. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right. You can carry the luggage, too. And you have to listen to my music and tell me all the stories of your exploits – properly, too, none of this, 'I fought a monster and lived, the end,' nonsense."

Geralt shakes his head. "I won't need to tell you stories," he says. "You can see them yourself."

Jaskier's eyes widen. "You mean—"

"You're more than capable. I underestimated you." He gives Jaskier a soft, sincere look that fills his chest with a warm sense of pride.

"People often do."

"It's a mistake I won't make again," Geralt promises. "You'll come, then?"

Jaskier laughs, letting the anger and resentment melt away until nothing is left but a soft ache that he knows will fade and disappear with time.

"Yes, I'll come."

Geralt's smile is as bright as it is rare. "Thank you."

"One question." Jaskier looks back toward the door. "Can you, y'know… can you turn back? Not permanently, just sometimes. If you feel like it?"

Geralt shrugs, staring down at their joined hands. "I'm not sure. You can ask Yennefer?"

"No, you can ask Yennefer," Jaskier insists. "She scares me."

Geralt makes a sound that's almost the same as his wolf counterpart's huff.

"You're cute as a wolf," Jaskier says, and the expression on Geralt's face quickly becomes indignant.

"I'm not cute."

"You are. And you have better manners."

"Hm."

"Plus, your vocabulary is just as limited. It's an upgrade, really." Geralt growls and Jaskier laughs. "See? And it would be very handy to have something warm and soft to cuddle on the cold nights."

Geralt hesitates, expression twisting into something that clearly indicates that he'd rather die than have this conversation, but he forges ahead anyway. "You could," he says hesitantly, "do that. With. Like this." He gestures to himself, voice tight with embarrassment. "With me, I mean, like—"

"I get it," Jaskier says, letting pity get the better of him and letting Geralt out of the uncomfortable conversation. "I still think I prefer you as a wolf, though."

Geralt sighs. "Fine, I'll ask Yennefer."

Jaskier squeezes Geralt's hand once more, then slowly moves until his legs are hanging over the edge of the bed. He spies his lute in the corner, and the rest of his clothing, and he stumbles forward toward it. Geralt quickly reaches out and grabs his arm, frowning at him.

"What are you doing?"

Jaskier studies his face – the concern in his eyes, the uncertainty in the curve of his lips. All the anger and frustration are gone from him, and he looks just like the man Jaskier fell in love with all those years ago. Before Jaskier can stop himself, he leans back down and presses a kiss to Geralt's cheek.

"I'm getting my things," he says, grinning when Geralt brings a hand to his face in surprise. "We've got an adventure to get do, don't we?"