A heartbeat.
In the midst of all of the carnage, whispering through the walls in steady rhythm and yet as effective as the beating of a war drum.
Geralt listens, tries to see if he can find anything familiar in it, as if the timber of it were the footsteps of a brother sneaking about in the night- but it gives no hint. It's too weak, too slow.
At this point Geralt knows the answer, but he doesn't let himself hope. Instead, carefully making his way back up the steps following the noise until he is once again in the bloody hallway, staring at the gap in the door held open by the broken axe. He can hear breathing now, berating himself for missing it on the way in.
He puts a hand to the door, the other still gripping his silver sword. It swings open easily, creaking on old hinges until it stops on something heavy, jarring it with a distinct metallic clink of chains, and though the room is dark, Geralt can see everything.
"Jaskier."
He feels a strange mix of relief and fear as he enters, seeing Jaskier lying unconscious on the far side of the room, dirty, face half covered in blood, nearly curled into himself except for a single leg stretched out and so mangled that he can't tell where the flesh ends and the cloth of his trousers begins.
He spots the bear trap, now acting as a macabre doorstop, and lets out a low growl, hand tightening on his sword as he crosses the room. He can hear and see Jaskier breathing, so he knows that he's not in any immediate danger of dying. His instincts kick in and he forces himself to move slowly, scanning around the small room before sheathing his sword and kneeling beside his friend.
Geralt brings both hands down to hover awkwardly for a moment, suddenly unsure of where to start. He usually only tends to himself, and though he's been looking after Ciri, he's never had to deal with anything more than minor cuts and bruising.
The most obvious thing would be the leg, being the largest and most obvious wound, but he feels a nagging at the back of his mind telling him that he needs to try and bring Jaskier around first, so he tentatively grasps his shoulder, noting the fine tremors and cold of the clothed skin beneath his palm.
"Jaskier,"
Geralt gives him a gentle shake, but it garners no reaction but the shifting of some of the bard's hair over his slack face as his head rolls with the movement. He thinks he sees the fingers of one of his hands curl slightly, but it's too brief to be certain.
"Come on Jaskier,"
He keeps his voice low and gives another, slightly more forceful shake. Jaskier's head rolls back this time, facing the ceiling at the same time that his eyes begin to crack open.
It only takes a second before he snaps awake, inhaling through his nose urgently, which is the only warning Geralt gets before Jaskier swings at him, missing and scrambling back, teeth gritted through a hiss as he jars his leg in the process.
Geralt backs away, still on his knees, both palms open and facing Jaskier as he settles lower to try and make eye contact. He can hear the way the bard's heart is hammering in his chest, and he's afraid of what might happen if he doesn't calm down.
"Jaskier…Jask, look at me, it's okay. You're okay."
The use of the nickname had been a gamble, but it had paid off. He can see the moment sounds begin to register into words, sees when those wide blue eyes focus and understand, which is why he is fully prepared when the tension leaves his friend and he topples to the side, moving quickly and catching him by the shoulder to lever him up to lean against the wall. Jaskier grabs his bicep at the same time, grip tight and shaking like a stubborn leaf against a winter breeze.
He breathes in gasps, working through the vice in his chest, and Geralt sits quietly and lets him hold on, even as he spots the quiet tears that trudge a path through the grime on his face. Jaskier speaks up after a moment, though he doesn't look at him, instead staring toward the open door and the broken head of the axe.
"What-" his throat catches and he coughs, "What happened? Where is he?"
Geralt is about to reply as best as he can, but Jaskier's eye widen and he turns to look at him in alarm.
"The children! Where are they? Did they find you?!" Jaskier pivots in place and grabs at his other arm desperately, crying out when his leg drags along the floor. Geralt has to tighten his grip when the other man almost falls again, holding most of his weight as he curls forward, forehead resting against his chest as he rides out the pain.
He lets him breathe through the worst of it, moving one hand to sit comfortingly on the back of his neck, making a note of the blood he finds there.
"The boy found me, and I made sure that he was in safe hands, you have my word."
Jaskier shifts under his palm, still trying to manage his pain. He raises his head, confusion flitting across his features.
"And the girl?"
"I didn't see a girl, the boy was alone. There was another?"
"He has a sister…they both got away at the same time…I don't understand, did she get lost? Why didn't he say anything…?" Jaskier trails off, gaze slowly moving to the open door again. He seems to spot something and freezes in place.
Geralt turns to look over his shoulder, but suddenly Jaskier is struggling to his feet, disentangling himself from his hold and leaning heavily against the wall.
"Jaskier?"
But the bard ignores him, stumbling forward and towards the door, one hand supporting himself, the other outstretched as he calls out into the darkness,
"Wait, come back!"
"Jaskier hold on!"
The Witcher stands, joining him as he gently grabs at his elbow.
"What's going on? What did you see?"
Because he hadn't seen nor heard anything.
"The little girl, she was right there! We have to help her Geralt!"
"Jaskier…"
"She was there! I can't just leave her, she's in danger!"
He wants to argue, but knows Jaskier is nothing if not stubborn, and hefts a quiet sigh even as he continues to support him out and into the hallway.
Jaskier turns towards the back end, indicating that he had seen her turn down that way through the door. It's dark, the torch having been left in the cellar, so Geralt carefully guides him, avoiding the viscera and keeping silent for the time being.
They have to pause at the top of the stairs when Jaskier begins to flag, and Geralt doesn't miss the way his eyes catch the torchlight below, lighting with an edge of fear before he tamps it down, swallows, and tries to take the first step down.
His leg immediately gives out on him, and he falls to his knees, partially on the first and second steps. Geralt moves down in front of him and grabs Jaskier by the shoulders.
"There's no one here Jaskier, this is foolish. You'll only hurt yourself more."
But Geralt can see the steely resolve in his pained eyes and knows that he is fighting a losing battle.
"Fine, but before you go down there, you need to know what you're going to find…"
Jaskier meets his eyes, brow furrowing,
"I've been down there Geralt, I know. The woman…"
"Yes the woman, but that's not what I meant."
"I don't know the full story but it seems like the man-" Jaskier flinches, which speeds up Geralt's already short story, "He's dead Jask. A wraith got to him before I even set foot in the house."
He gestures with his chin down the stairs, giving Jaskier a second to peer over his shoulder at the bottom of the steps, barely illuminated by the scant light of the torch. He keeps a steady hold on him, ready for his reaction as he falls back, one hand covering his mouth as he gasps in disgust and horror.
"Are you sure you want to go down there?"
He can see his fear, the way he's swallowing down nausea, no doubt compounded by what must be a nasty blow or two to the head, but regardless the bard makes his decision quickly, hand still covering his mouth even as he nods. He can't tell wether to be impressed or concerned.
"We have to help her."
And that's that. No turning back now.
"Alright, then let me help. There's no way you'll make it down the stairs on that leg."
Jaskier pauses, looking offended. Because only he could be offended by being too injured to walk. Geralt ignores him, instead turning on the steps to offer him his back.
"What?"
"Nope, come on." He motions him forward, arms at the ready to take his weight. He hears Jaskier huff behind him, and somehow, the normalcy of it makes him feel better.
The bard leans forward, gingerly putting his arms around his shoulders, and it's a testament to how tired he must be that he makes no other comment or remark on the matter, simply burying his nose in his shoulder when he has to move his bad leg into his grasp, despite how careful they're being. Neither of them will mention the fact that Jaskier's pulse has quickened considerably, both knowing and yet accepting that there are things that will not change and unwilling to give up a bond hard-earned.
Geralt moves slowly, once again careful of the gore on the steps. He can only hope that Jaskier is satisfied with what he finds at the bottow of them.
A/N: HELLO I AM ALIVE. And absolutely living!!!!!! The first part of s3 so far is everything, and I am so excited/nervous to see where this goes. Also helped me write Geralt since we got to see him being friendly with Jaskier, plus him calling Jaskier Jask my heart is full!!!