Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the witcher. Those are property of Mr Sapkowski and I using Netflix series canon mixed with the books, but this is an alternate take of it.

Warning : Blood, anxiety, depression, sickness. Emotional and physical whump.

Trigger : Well a lot of things actually. If you are not comfortable with bad mental health situation you better skip.

Notes : This time the main narration comes is more on the "real" side. I mean, outside of Radovid dream recollection of the events. But there is an important part in his dream too. I hope the timeline won't be to hard to follow.
Also, this is not the last chapter even it could seem to be ;).

Chapter 6 : Escape
(10 days after)

###

Miracles are things that happens strangely. Of course they are. Wouldn't be miracles otherwise. Desperate situations. Odd circumstances. For us, the miracle we were praying for you materialised in the shape of a pray Milva couldn't catch. That woman is an excellent huntress as you know. Milva always put an honour to capture something when food his low. But, that day, for no apparent reason, she had the worst aim ever. This is how we found the healer that is treating you. Milva had murdered her mushroom basket with her arrow. This is a story you would like to hear for sure. I am looking forward to.

Call it Destiny. Call it lucky star if you will. But here you are. This is not a farewell, this is a goodbye. Please, keep that in mind, Jaskier. We'll come back for you, as soon as we can. I know this is not what you wished for but this is an acceptable alternative for everyone. Stay strong till then. I'll take care of your wolf.

See you soon.

Regis.

In her armchair near the bed, Nelian closed the bard's notebook. This was written on the last page. She sighed. She should have read this before. She had decided to look into the personal belongings of her patient when she had nothing more to do but wait for him to wake up.

She had gone through a lot of informations stored into that little object. With an absolute horror, she caught up the current political events in a chaotic way. He was writing things with key words most of the time, like memos for later, mixed with blocks of fully fleshed text fuelled with his raw emotions. His writing was beautiful with a pinch of humour that she quite liked, even in the darkest parts. Without actually interacting with him, she was learning to know him a little bit. It was heart-warming in a way. She had left humanity to itself largely because of those events she was reading about in the notebook : wars, hate crimes, suffering, core rotten politics... But in the same time, she was connecting with a simple human being - named after a flower - with his own struggles and feelings. And she wanted to help him, like she used to help animals and plants around her, in this deserted place.

And then, there were the songs and the poetry. Those were what gave her a real understanding of why Jaskier - if she dared call him by his chosen name - was is this state, why a bard was following a mutant till the end of the world, and even was ending being that badly hurt in a warfield. She didn't have the last days written in the notebook for obvious reasons but things were quite self-explanatory.

Between the partial memoires, there were many draft of a lifetime love declaration for the witcher. The mutant was his muse for so many many years, and love was driving him all along. A stupid, unadulterated love. This was as simple as that. This part of humanity was what she missed the most from being away from all.

This note left at the end, by the old man was like a desperate attempt to convince the dying bard that they didn't abandon him, especially the witcher, the one the bard called his White Wolf. That Regis had understood that leaving him behind might be what would kill him in the end. She sighed, remembering what happened when she told the wounded man that Geralt was coming back soon, a week ago. She didn't lie to him, this was what they told her. They said they would come back for him later. She just didn't know when.

Ten days now and they didn't come back. The possibility they wouldn't at all was growing. And she was sad for the bard. Both because he had fought to stay alive for that man for days - considering his wounds it was almost just his will that made the difference in the end - and because she had now healed him enough for his body to survive the ordeal when he clearly didn't want to anymore. He was slowly coming back to the living, but she dread the moment he would finally wake up and she would meet his eyes.

She looked at him. His beard had grown, hiding some of the evidence of illness. He was globally thinner. He had lost all fat and bones were becoming more and more visible. He was having only liquid food for days, even before he ended here, and the lack of movement was already weakening his muscles. No bandages where needed anymore but huge ugly scars were decorating his skin. Draining the infected wounds and removing dead flesh over field made sutures was what caused this mayhem. This was not pretty and he would need the expertise of mages to perhaps clean this mess up a little bit.

She got up and put the notebook in the lute case before leaving the house. She took her basket with her and went straight to the forest. She needed to find the comfort of nature a little bit. Searching for some plants and fruits would perfect for that.

###

Geralt woke up at dawn. He was sweating abundantly. He had a terrible nightmare, like most of the nights since they left Brokilon, but it was not the same kind he use to have. He usually had this constant reminder that Ciri was in danger that pushed him to go further. But this time, Jaskier was in the centre of it. It had been something like ten days since they left him with the healer.

He had sometimes, those pang of guilt squishing his chest in an angst spiral, as much as the fear of failing his daughter again. He had made the choice to rush to Ciri and try to save his friend's life, perhaps a bad one from the bard's perspective, but it was the only way there was a chance to see them both alive. He hoped...

He looked at the cloudy sky above, which was progressively taking the colours of the rising sun, drifting again in memories he wished he didn't have.

###

Radovid had several days of pure chaotic dreams. Jaskier had drifted into a very bad phase but was healing, according to the dream traveller. During those dives his childhood memories were merging with the ordeal he was currently going through. But sometimes strange things were happening. There were moments when Jaskier was drifting in his world.

They shared moments, shattered in time, in his garden near the roses parterre, sitting on the bench, or walking around. Jaskier didn't believe he was real. Never. But he seemed to enjoy those moments. Sometimes he had the company of a child or a teenage Jaskier. Sometimes the older wounded version, from the early moments to the almost dead ones. This Jaskier was tough to be around. His aspect and tiredness was distressing. But that version was the more open also, letting his guard down and just living the moment. Speaking freely about wounds of the past and other things. He was willingly taking comfort in his arms when overwhelmed or simply prone to kiss him.

The child one was the most disturbing. Very guarded. Afraid even. Radovid understood with the mixed memories that they had very similar childhood, with the particularity that Jaskier was more rebel than him, ending more often than not to receive severe punishments. At school most of the time. He wasn't home very often. And home wasn't a safer place for him. What was common was that they received the same strong rigid education in a painful way and that there were meant to stay in social place they didn't belong to. Jaskier had found his way out of this, becoming a wandering bard and absolutely leaving his past behind. His lover had achieved what he had failed.

The child Jaskier was still interesting because even if he didn't say much he was sharing his inner world with him. His imagination couldn't be tamed and when he appeared in the garden, this was like being in a totally different place. And funnily enough, it was this Jaskier that gave him his name : Red Rose.

Radovid was digging those moments of connection between them more and more. He couldn't do much about the wounds Jaskier suffered, except what he had already done in the early moments or some very disturbing unphased periods, in a more metaphorical place his brain was creating. He knew he had helped preventing him to loose more blood during some critical moments, but the real game was those discussions they had in their place. The garden half way through.

The Red Rose was becoming a distant memory that Jaskier had all his life. He was leaving like a print in the mud, associating himself to a safe place, in the back of his head. Not clear enough to be remembered but existing nonetheless in his past dreams. The current version of the bard was slowly building up on this ethereal idea, and trusted him more and more.

The dream traveller was discreet in those moments. She was wandering but she was not intrusive. Leaving them in their intimacy. She told him that he was doing great and that except helping them to connect, she didn't have to use her powers to make him interact with the physical form of the bard. Radovid appreciated that, especially because Philippa seemed to have taken some distances. Apparently the creature was detected only when she used her special magic. The connection was seamless but the dream bending - whatever that was - provoked a pike of chaos that was intriguing the sorceress and make her study him a little bit too closely.

With this new intimacy, his bedroom was becoming his safe place, their dreams his new reality. Leaving the world happening around him without grabbing its momentum. Until...

###

Radovid was in the garden. He found Jaskier in front of the roses parterre, reading his brother's stone. It was the very sick Jaskier that day. His hair were mangled and he was trembling. He was wearing clothes he had never seen him in. Commoners was the name that came into his mind. He deduced this was some Geralt and Cahir had found on the village. So the was a past Jaskier from now. It was hard to find when he was but he needed to, as from the time frame would depend how he could speak and interact with him. This version needed a lot of comfort but was hard to have a coherent with.

He came from behind and put his arms around the thin frame of his lover. He put his chin on his shoulder and read the stone with him. This was the real inscriptions and strangely the first time the bard stopped to read it. He looked down, the shirt was open on the bloodied bandages on my mid section. He was sure now.

- "Is this real ?" Asked Jaskier.
- "What do you mean ?"

Radovid was perplex. Jaskier always believed that their interactions were some kind of hallucinations, due to his poor state. He had stopped trying to convince him quite early on as the illusion was more pleasant. And this version was even more convinced that everything was a construct of his sick self mind.

- "Yes. My brother died a few weeks ago." He answered honestly, nonetheless. He felt the bite of sadness but didn't show it.
- "Then, it means you are the king now ?"
- "Well, you'll have to say that quick. I am the king but I don't rule."
- "Why didn't you tell me ?"
- "I tried sometimes during the first times but you rejected that idea. It didn't seem much important after." Radovid said, squeezing him a little bit more, as he was feeling the tremor growing in his lover's body.

His own heart was beating faster as fear was digging its way to his heart. Fear of rejection. Jaskier broke the hug and turned around to meet his eyes.

- "I don't remember what is first and last here. This feels like forever and whenever."
- "You are the one who control the when, Jaskier, not me. I am following your lead the best I can. And if tomorrow this is a younger yourself I meet then maybe you won't remember what we spoke about. I don't know what I am suppose to do ?"
- "What is happening ?" The bard seemed suddenly lost and even more fragile.
- "I am not sure to know either." Radovid led him to the bench and help him in his arms. "You are here and alive. This is all that matters to me. We can see each other while the whole world separate us and..."

Jaskier grabbed his coat and push his head inside. He began to cry against his chest.

- "What ? Jaskier ? Hey love. What's wrong ?"

In the corner of his eye, Radovid saw the cloaked woman run toward him and heard her scream before everything shifted : "They have found what I have done. They know. Protect him ! I will find you. I promise !"

He found himself projected suddenly into the bard's past but the environment was a blurry mess. He never had seen this before.

He was sitting in a cart and Jaskier was in front of him, in a very bad condition. The way everything looked could be the result of his state. He was barely conscious, sweating and shivering. He was lying on and covered with several covers, as to try to keep him warm. A few meters away, Geralt and Regis were talking. Their voices were distorted. Radovid tried to touch the bard face but his hand just went through. He looked around. The dream traveller was not there. He was trapped with Jaskier drifting memories which was terrifying in itself.

Suddenly there was a movement. The witcher and the vampire came aboard. Geralt helped the bard in a better position for the old man to access the bandages. The wounded man moaned pitifully when they tried to clean his wounds.

- "Stop. Please. Stop." He cried, clearly in pain.

Geralt looked at the old man.

- "Regis. Stop. Leave it that way. There is nothing else we can do."

Radovid's heart sank. That was not possible. He had spoken with an older version of Jaskier. He wasn't dead. Not here. The dream traveller said he was in a healer house. He didn't die here. As to answer his inner questions, reality shifted again, and he ended up in a even more blurry environment, but it was a house, he was sure of it. Jaskier was lying on a bed, looking extremely weak. There was an old lady there. She became clearer has she approached. She seemed very worried.

- "Who are you and where am I ?" Asked the bard slowly with an extreme raspy voice. Each syllable detached, as it coast him great effort to speak.
- "I am a druid. My name is Nelian. I am taking care of you, son."
- "Where is Geralt ?"
- "He is coming back soon." She replied with a soft smile.
- "My Red Rose was right... He lied..." Said Jaskier just above a whispered before closing his eyes.
- "What ?" Exclaimed Radovid before everything shifted again.

He was back in the cart, watching Geralt holding an exhausted Jaskier who was trying to communicate with his last drop of energy. The other members of the group had joined and were waiting worryingly for him to talk.

- "Can I ask you something important ?" He asked, looking up to the witcher with feverish wet eyes.
- "Yes ?"
- "Can you promise me something ?"
- "It depends…"
- "Oh don't worry, nothing a witcher can't achieve." The bard joked weakly, making everyone smile.
- "What is it ?"
- "I am not stupid and I know that I won't make it unless you find some healer." He took time to regain control over his breathing. Speaking was demanding. "So just take some time to make me a nice grave. With rocks. And put some flowers on it. I love flowers... That's the most important..."

Radovid just began to cry to those words. The metaphors in the void. His child inner world. The garden... Even his name. Flowers. Always flowers because he simply loved them. Jaskier was a simple man with a complex vision of reality.

- "Jaskier…" The witcher shook his head. He clearly didn't want to hear that.
- "Don't Jaskier me." Cut the bard in a wheezing breath. Geralt sighed. "Tomb. Flowers. This is what I want…" The witcher nodded silently this time. "Now, if by miracle you find a healer... wait for me… I need to find Ciri as much as you, do you understand ?"
- "I do, Jaskier, but... You suffered too much being on my side. You can't…"
- "Please Geralt. Don't leave me behind…" The bard began to cry. "Not again…"

Superposing on this reality came several moments Radovid was recognising from all those disconnected memories that the bard shared with him in his hallucinatory phases. The pervasive feeling of emptiness. As a child. As an adult. The mountain. The castle. The school. Rooms. Unknown places. Blossoming inner world full of flowers and colours to keep the fear of being abandoned at bay. The fear to be left alone by those he loved and even those who didn't. The underlying need to be loved that dug a hole in his heart for many years.

Radovid realised that he was doing the same with all this mystical experience. Building his own inner world to forget he was alone in a golden cage, living every moment he could with the man he loved in the garden. That utopic place. Was everything even real ? Wasn't he simply imagining all this adventure ? Wasn't he the one dying somewhere and hallucinated all that ?

- "I won't leave you, Jaskier. I promise." He heard the witcher say, cutting his spiralling thoughts.

The exhausted smile Radovid saw on Jaskier's lips and his tears of joy broke his heart, because now he knew what was the vow Geralt had broken and what terrible pain it meant for the bard. Exhaustion finally won over the wounded man and he plunged back rapidly into his feverish induced sleep.

The very next moment, the others weren't inside the cart but on their horses next to it as the world morphed into a new memory. The strange thing was that time seemed to have suddenly stopped. People were frozen in their motion but there was like a soft snow falling from nowhere. The bard seemed more dead than alive but not affected by this pause in time. His eyes were partially opened and he was breathing. Radovid was seeing the vapour escape in quick succession from his trembling lips. He was kneeled in front of him at the exact same place he was before, and Jaskier was looking straight past him. He turned his head to look over his shoulder.

He screamed and crawled away as he saw someone looking exactly like him. There was something uncanny though. He was sure that was him. It couldn't be. He was wearing his crown. That was never the case in his dream travels. This was probably the strange question about his brother death was coming from. From the very beginning of this dive, he was witnessing the emergence of a new past writing itself in Jaskier memories.

That thing that looked like him had travelled back in time somehow, breaking the fragile balance he had installed. He watched with horror his doppelgänger moved forward and kneeled next to the bard at the exact same spot he was before.

- "He will break his promise. He will leave you behind." He heard himself say.
- "Hey!" He screamed. But no-one seemed to hear.
- "He promised." Jaskier answered tiredly.
- "He will break his promise. He will leave you behind." Repeated his clone.
- "I don't believe you."
- "This is the same story over and over. You should be use to it. Never wanted, never loved. This is not different."
- "That's not me !"

Radovid saw something bursting out of nowhere past him. He just had a glimpse of the cloaked lady. Her hood had drop and her white hair braid was floating in her quick motion. He didn't have the time to see her face. He felt like a pull from behind and the world spiralled again until he felt the strange contact of the bard hiding his face in his coat against his chest. He was back in the garden but everything was dying. The tree were loosing their leaves, the flowers their petals.

- "Jaskier ! I am here. I didn't tell you those things. This wasn't me !"
- "He left me behind."

Radovid quickly put the pieces together. The dream traveller had told him about someone twisting Jaskier's past before. Someone that wanted him dead. Was this a similar creature, travelling in time and space but not like her ? They were trying to sabotage everything they had done to help the bard overcome his ordeal, with that vicious act. Jaskier was holding onto the promise Geralt made and him literally helping him keep the darkness at bay : the void.

- "You don't know that. I didn't tell you those things."
- "He broke my last wish. They found a healer. And he left me behind."
- "I beg of you ! Listen ! Fight !" He screamed to the man in his arms. The garden was fading.
- "Why should I ?"
- "For me ? Can you do it for me ? I am here." Radovid cried. "Don't leave me alone."

Suddenly it was the child he was holding in his arms.

- "I hurt."
- "I am here. Fight for me please. We can still see each other here. We don't have to be alone. Both of us. We need each other."
- "I am afraid."

Radovid was feeling his grasp loosen. The was the whole connection that was been severed.

- "Search for me. Search for me. I will be there ! Fight !" He screamed trying to reach the boy.
- "Are you there ?" The child look up at him but he was not seeing him.
- "I am. Believe. For me, little wildflower. You need to believe... I am in the garden. I..." He was sobbing now.

The little Jaskier just popped out like a bubble and he was back in the void, on a fading ground covered in red rose petals. In his left hand, a single wild blue pansy.

When he opened his eyes, Radovid wished he'd never. He sat up and put his right hand on his chest, letting the tears fall, from the pulsing pain he was feeling inside. The emptiness was devastating. His heart was bleeding from the thorns lodged inside. The thorns of failure. He opened his left hand and moaned as he had the proof everything was true. There was a crumpled wild blue flower he had squeezed too hard.

###

Somewhere, in a small house hidden from the world, Jaskier opened his eyes. Tears were running on his cheeks as he was progressively acknowledging his new environment and realised he was alone. Birds were singing joyfully but no human sounds was coming from the next room or even outside. He didn't know why he was alive and conscious. He remembered he had been deadly wounded. He had fought and then he had lost hope. Somehow, his body had healed. He remembered an old lady. Nelian. The name died on his lips as he whispered it. She wasn't there either.

He looked at his body, or at least the part he could see. Covers reached his armpits and his chest and shoulders were visible. He moved fingers slightly, it worked. But when he tried to move his whole upper limbs, his left arm responded with a stabbing pain coming from the shoulder. He looked at the atrocious scar and had no reaction. With his trembling valid arm he lifted slightly the cover hiding the rest of him. Mangled flesh had healed together to scar very badly. He didn't care. He let the cover fall on him again, as the effort was already too much.

He waited there for something to happen. For someone to come. But as he already knew, no-one came. His child self was screaming inside of him. He was not wanted. He was not loved. He was left alone. Always.

He didn't have the strength to move but he wished he could curl up in a ball, as emptiness was filling every fibre of his body. He knew that feeling so well. He had to escape, he had to...

The room around him morphed into a more beautiful place as his distraught mind created the safe place from his childhood. Plants, flowers, shimmering colours playing in the sun rays coming from the window. The birds outside became real inside. He wanted to forget the growing hole in his heart. He had to escape... Reality was to hard to bear.

Oky that was the hardest chapter to come up with. The structure was hellish lol.
See you soon !