It had been a busy day. Jaskier had taught about synonyms. Afterward, he beat Lambert in a game of Gwent. He thought of a new song, and his hands were well enough to remove the bandages. It was a good day for him.

Yennefer, Ciri, Jaskier, and the Morhen Morons were eating dinner again. Since it was close to the end of winter, they were relying on filling soups. They were laughing at a joke Jaskier had made.

Vesemir chuckled, "Very funny, Jaskier!"

Lambert mentioned, "Or is it Julian right now?"

"Or Professor Pankratz!?" Ciri interjected.

They all chuckled at their antics. Geralt drank Yennefer shook her head and focused on her food. She commented offhandedly, "Jaskier, Julian, Professor Pankratz, and oh, what was that other? The Sandpiper? You have far too many names."

Jaskier froze in his seat as did the witchers except for Eskel. Geralt choked on his drink. Jaskier resumed his meal without making eye contact. He stirred his spoon in his soup, "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Yennefer looked up from her food and read the room. She frowned, "You didn't tell them?"

Geralt said, "The Sandpiper. You're the Sandpiper?"

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, "Don't listen to her. I'm afraid she's mistaken."

She abruptly stood. Her chair flew backward as she yelled, "Gods, Jaskier! You didn't tell them? Please tell me you haven't been dressing your own wounds."

He kept his head low, unsure of what to say. He was trying to keep that under wraps, the fewer who knew his identity meant the fewer who could spread it and the less danger he could be in. But then again, these were his friends; this was Geralt.

He must have taken too long because she scoffed, "You did."

Eskel tried to de-escalate, "Woah. Let's not be too excited. What's a sandpoper?"

"The Sandpiper," Geralt corrected, "The Sandpiper is the alias of someone who's been running an underground elf smuggling ring."

Yennfer added, "The Sandpiper takes them somewhere safe. He saves them."

Vesemir asked, "And what makes you so sure Jaskier is the Sandpiper?"

Jaskier finally spoke, "Because I helped her."

The attention turned to him. Ciri awed, "Jaskier..."

He looked up and addressed the room, "In Oxenfurt, I worked as a bard in one of the taverns called The Rosemary and Thyme. Elves came to me, and I hid them there until nightfall when I sent them on ships with some associates of mine. But you must understand, I am not doing anything out of vengeance. They're being persecuted here. They're being taken as slaves."

Geralt said, "But why would you do such a foolish thing? This is not your fight. You could get yourself killed."

"It is my fight," Jaskier confirmed, "First, they'll start with the elves, then it's the dwarves, then the men, and soon no musician is safe. This is the first step. It may not affect us right now, but it will only get worse until it does."

Vesemir nodded, "Cut off its head while you still can."

Geralt remembered, "That's how you knew Yen was in Oxenfurt. She's part-elf."

"Yup," Yennefer confirmed, "I had to crawl through a sewer just to make it to town."

Jaskier nodded, "It smelled like something had crawled up your ass and died."

"So you said," Yennefer confirmed.

Ciri asked, "So how do you do it?"

Jaskier shrugged, "I don't know. That's why I'm so good at it."

Lambert sputtered, "You- you don't have a plan for it? You have no idea at all?"

Jaskier shrugged, "I don't know. Whatever I'm doing, it works."

Ciri said, "Jaskier, you didn't happen to see an elf boy, did you? Dark skin about my age. His name is Dara."

Jaskier, "I did! Real nice boy. He made it through."

She sighed, "Thank you."

Dinner resumed. Vesemir asked, "So Sandpiper, when do you plan to return?"

Jaskier shrugged, "I don't know. I didn't exactly leave a warning when I left. I don't know if I ever can return."

Eskel asked, "Why did you leave?"

Memories of Reince flashed across his mind, and he tried to suppress a shiver. He swallowed roughly. Geralt took a guess, "Is it because I took you from the prison? You're a wanted man now."

Lambert asked, "Why were you in prison, anyway?"

Jaskier cracked a grin, "For being a Peeping Tom."

Geralt huffed, "Sounds like you."

Yennefer scoffed, "Those are only the charges."

Jaskier's grin fell.

Ciri asked, "What's that supposed to mean?

Jaskier sighed, "I was deemed a Peeping Tom even though I wasn't," Geralt gave him a disbelieving look, so he added, "I wasn't; I swear! The Witch and I ended up in some trouble and got separated. I looked in a ton of different windows looking for her. When I finally spotted her, some idiotic guards grabbed me from behind and told me I was going to prison."

Ciri said, "But didn't they let you explain?"

Geralt said, "Guards don't always listen when you need them to."

A gloomy silence fell on them. Jaskier tried to cheer them up, "It's not all bad! I made a new song while I was in there! It's called Whoreson Prison Blues. Do you want to hear it?"

They all nodded. Jaskier licked his spoon clean and started playing it.

After dinner, Jaskier was one of the first to retire. The witchers wanted to stay and play a game of Gwent. Yennefer decided to join them as well, and Ciri, though also tired, wanted to watch.

With Geralt taking the lead and Ciri bored out of her mind, she tried to strike up a conversation. She asked the first question that came to mind, "Yennefer, you said something about Jaskier having wounds earlier. Is he hurt?"

Yennefer frowned and played a card, "He was. I really thought he already told you about it, especially you Geralt."

Geralt frowned too, "What's wrong with him?"

Yennefer said, "I don't know what all happened, but... oh the stupid Fire Fucker got a hold of him. He was sneaking me out on a boat when he was attacked. It took hours to find him. Hours, Geralt!"

She dropped her cards, completely abandoning them. She shook her head, "I can't believe it took me so long," she blinked her misty eyes, "You should have seen him."

Geralt abandoned his cards as well. He demanded, "What happened?"

Yennefer took a deep breath. She explained, "I heard a man known as The Sandpiper was helping elves escape the kingdom in Oxenfurt. I ended up in the basement of a bar when I was told The Sandpiper was a bard working there. Then I heard Jaskier singing. I'm afraid it was about you, Geralt. Of how you scorned him."

Geralt grunted in displeasure. He knew he hurt Jaskier, but hoped it wasn't as bad as Jaskier feeling the need to write a song about him. It displeased him greatly, but he kept this to himself.

Yennefer clasped her hands together and stared at them to ground herself. She continued, "After his performance and the bar cleared out, I went upstairs and talked to him. It was normal like nothing had ever happened between him and you and us. It was nice. But then he lead me and the elves to a boat. We got in. Then we heard a thump and wood breaking. I ran out and saw that his lute had been smashed."

Ciri said, "He said his lute was broken..."

Yennefer nodded, "I looked for him for hours. When I finally found him... Well, it was awful. The Fire Fucker had gotten to him."

"Who's the Fire Fucker?" Geralt growled.

"He's a very powerful sorcerer named Reince, but he's better known as the Fire Fucker. He can control and summon fire at his fingertips," Yennefer explained.

Geralt growled again, and the other witchers wreaked of leather and anger. Lambert demanded, "What did he do to the bard?"

Yennefer said, "When I found him, he was tied to a chair in an empty tavern. He was bleeding. The Fire Fucker had beaten him," she looked at Geralt, "He kept asking where you and Ciri were, where the witcher keep is, and any of your weaknesses. Jaskier refused to tell him anything."

A pang of guilt rushed Geralt. Jaskier had been interrogated and possibly tortured because of him. Because of his affiliation with him. Geralt had placed Jaskier in danger, and yet he abandoned him without a second thought. Okay, at the time there were no second thoughts. But a week later? Geralt very much had second thoughts. He hadn't told the others, and he hoped they didn't notice his guilt.

Yennefer shook her head in shame, "The Fire Fucker got angry. He burned him. He burned his hand."

"What?" Vesemir said, shocked.

Geralt pounded his fist into the wooden table, and it splintered underneath. He yelled, "He burned his hand!? But he's a fucking bard!"

Eskek added, "Everyone knows how dishonorable it is to burn a bard's hands. It's like stabbing an unarmed man or stealing from a widow. You don't do it."

Yennfer exclaimed angrily, "I know! Jaskier needs his hands! He broke his lute and burned his hand! Then when we got out, we got separated and Jaskier was thrown in jail!"

Silence echoed in the room as they took in what she had just said. The only sound was her heavy breathing. Vesemir whispered, "And he treated himself."

He said loudly, "He didn't tell us. He treated himself. We gave him an unacceptable and cold welcome. We knew he traveled with Geralt. He was to be trusted. He brought Ciri to us. But he wasn't. He wasn't trusted and he wasn't welcome. He was wounded, and he didn't tell us."

"That's why had had bandages on his fingers!" Ciri concluded.

Eskel asked, "He took them off today, right? Maybe he's already healed."

Yennefer nodded, "Probably. It would be about the time I would take them off too."

Vesemir nodded, "Then let us hope there are no lasting repercussions.

Geralt stewed on his bed that night. He thought of moving to Yennefer's room to help him sleep. He ultimately decided against it. He deserved this punishment as far as he was concerned. He couldn't believe it. He had let his anger, a weak little emotion, take over his judgment and hurt his best companion. Then that same companion got harmed.

Jaskier surprised Geralt in many ways. He was the first human to purposely seek out Geralt. He didn't need to hire him to kill a man or a monster. He simply sang to him and became attached. Geralt made jokes about his singing, as did many, and he even punched the man when they first met. But that didn't deter him. Jaskier kept by his side. Geralt wanted him gone at the beginning. He didn't want a burden to carry for the next however long until the human died.

But Jaskier wasn't a burden to him, Geralt realized. Jaskier wasn't a fighter, and he did cause Geralt to attend unwanted social events, but he played his role. His frequency to bars and taverns helped him catch wind of any jobs Geralt could take. Not to mention, if Geralt was being honest, he had to admit that Jaskier's profession made much more coin than his. Geralt was lucky to be paid at all, but again thanks to Jaskier, he had been paid more frequently. But Jaskier's profession was much more stable. It earned plenty each performance and often paid for their inn keep.

Geralt could never understand why such a well-off bard would choose to be a wandering nomad with him, especially since he now knew he was nobility. They could never settle down. They could never create families or produce or adopt children. He had heard Jaskier tell a pretty bard lady, someone with blonde hair and a red hat though he did not catch her name, that he had pondered the idea of opening his own tavern. But Jaskier couldn't do that as a traveling bard. Geralt felt more guilt crush him. He felt like he was holding Jaskier back.

Faint footfalls interrupted Geralt's pity party. He sat up, his blanket slid to his waist, and his bare torso shivered in the cold air. He listened in. They were light, very light, and he was sure any awake human or sleeping witcher wouldn't hear it. He furrowed his brows. Something inhuman must have snuck its way into the witcher's keep. He shook his head at its stupidity and tossed rushed to grab a discarded black shirt off his floor. He grabbed his sheathed sword off his bed, given he always slept with a blade, and headed out.

The footsteps were getting quieter, and Geralt had to rush to follow them. He passed a window and noticed the beginning of sunrise. He hurried faster and was full-on sprinting. He skid around corners of the stone keep with his sword at the ready. A figure was ahead. He lifted his sword.

"Geralt!"

He froze, holding his sword inches above the thing. Person, he realized. It was a person. He lowered it and huffed, "Damn it, Jaskier! Why are you awake?"

Jaskier crossed his arms, "Is it such a crime to go for a walk? I swear all witchers are short of a marble. Unbelievable!"

Geralt took a breath and sheathed his sword. He said calmly, "It's idiotic to sneak around witchers in the middle of the night."

"It's not night. It's dawn," Jaskier corrected, "And I was bored. You're the big brute waving his sword about. Why are you awake? Don't you have some witchering to do tomorrow?"

Geralt huffed at his sass. He hummed. Jaskier rolled his eyes. He said, "I'm finishing my walk."

Geralt studied Jaskier's appearance. The bard had warm pants, but a light sleep shirt. His ever-present and unreasonable boots donned his feet. Geralt didn't like it. Jaskier wasn't dressed for a proper walk but rather like he had rolled out of bed and thrown shoes on. Geralt shifted uncomfortably. He said awkwardly, "No, you won't."

Jaskier tilted his head, "What?"

Geralt growled at himself. He tried again, "You aren't dressed for it. What's wrong?"

Jaskier gave a small laugh. He grinned, "You're asking me what's wrong? I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate it, Geralt, but wow. Are you sick? Maybe you should go lie down."

Geralt clenched his fist. He tried one more time, "I'm serious, Jaskier. Why aren't you sleeping?"

Jaskier shrugged, "I have my reasons."

Geralt sighed. His yellow eyes met Jaskier's blue, and he said honestly, "Jaskier, Yennefer told me something yesterday. Something important. So what I'm asking is if you're alright."

Jaskier shifted his weight. He said nervously, "Oh? What did she say?"

"She told me about The Fire Fucker," Geralt replied, "SHe said he burned your hand."

Jaskier looked away and scoffed. He mumbled, "He did a lot more than that."

"What?" Geralt demanded.

Jaskier shrugged, "It's alright. The usual. A few punches. A cut here and there. It's nothing I haven't experienced before."

Geralt's eyes turned to the wall. He said, "I'm sorry."

Jaskier shook his head, "It's fine, Geralt. You should have met my parents," he winked, "And I've had my handful of trouble. Bedding married women and doing performances for uncultured audiences don't exactly end well. It's nothing new."

More rage filled The Witcher. Jaskier didn't deserve this, except maybe the wrath of angry husbands, but everything else, from his parents to his audiences to even Geralt himself was not deserved. He deserved better. Geralt squared his shoulders and raised his head proudly. He addressed, "Jaskier, I am so fucking sorry."

Jaskier said, confused, "For what?"

"For everything," Geralt said, "For underestimating you. For belittling you. For letting you get hurt. For hurting you. I've never been more fucking sorry in my entire fucking life. As soon as the snow melts, I will find The Fire Fucker, and I will kill him. I promise."

Jaskier didn't know what to do. He stared. After a beat, he blinked. He stuttered, "I… Geralt, you… Uh…" sighed. He walked towards Geralt and placed his hand on his shoulder. Jaskier smiled up at him, "Thank you. But don't strain yourself." He let go and over-exaggeratedly stretched his arms in the air. He said, "I'm beat. Let's go back to bed. Or at least get dressed. The others will be up soon."

Jaskier lead Geralt away so they could return to their respective rooms. Geralt failed to notice the final glance Jaskier gave to a nearby door.

Two hours later, the other witchers and witch woke. Vesemir, Lambert, Geralt, and Yennefer sat at their wooden table again. A dent from Geralt's anger from the night before was still very present, and Vesemir grumbled how he would need to fix it as soon as he could purchase the supplies. Geralt took a sweep of the room. Jaskier and Ciri were nowhere to be found. He wondered where they were.

Eskel headed to the kitchen. He often made breakfast for the group. But when he walked into the kitchen, he was confused by how messy it was. Egg shells and flour littered the counters, and something smelled slightly burnt. What surprised him, even more, was Jaskier and Ciri. The two were dressed in casual wear and tattered aprons. The two were coated with flour, and a handprint of white power decorated Jaskier's cheek with a smear of it on Ciri's nose. Jaskier was stirring something in a bowl with a wooden spoon, and Ciri was watching. She asked, "Can I stir it?"

"No," Jaskier replied, "I just got your egg shells out of the batter, and the last thing we need is more flour in your hair."

Eskel cleared his throat. They turned in surprise. Ciri broke out with a smile, "We're making breakfast! Don't tell Geralt."

Eskel sighed. He supposed kids did like to do small favors for their parents. He pointed to Jaskier and said, "And what are you doing here?"

Jaskier, with his hands full, tilled his head towards Ciri, "She can't cook."

Ciri argued, "I can try!"

Jaskier huffed, and replied, "Yeah, and you almost burned the kitchen down!"

Eskel sighed again. He could never understand these two. He shrugged; this wasn't his problem. When they have crunchy eggs and undercooked bread, it will be Geralt's problem. He returned to the table, and Lambert asked, "Where's breakfast?"

Eskel shrugged, "You'll see."

In what took much longer than the witchers could have liked, their food arrived… along with a messy Jaskier and Geralt. The food was fairly decent, to their surprise, but they couldn't believe how much flour and egg had made their way to their princess and bard. Vesemir stifled a laugh, and Geralt couldn't make up his mind on what he was supposed to do. Finally, Yennefer asked, "What happened to you two?"

"I wanted to cook," Ciri explained, "As a thank you. You're all doing so much for me."

"Unfortunately, she almost burned the kitchen down," Jaskier teased.

When Geralt could properly form words, he realized, "Wait. How did she make it to the kitchen? I didn't hear her last night."

"I had a little help," Ciri said, shrugging towards Jaskier.

Yennefer shook her head and asked him, "You managed to sneak Ciri to the kitchen in a fort full of witchers? You really must be the Sandpiper."

"I wouldn't really say sneak as I would rather say guide," Jaskier explained, "She's very loud, you know."

Geralt said, "That was her footsteps I heard."

Vesemir asked, "Oh?"

Geralt said, "I heard footsteps last night and followed them to Jaskier. He was alone, and we talked. Then we went back to.. Bed… Fuck," he huffed, "You went back to help her. You had to go back."

Yennefer laughed, "You snuck past a witcher twice!?"

Jaskier justified, "Ciri woke me up in the middle of the night with her plan! She asked me to help because she didn't know how!"

Lambert and Eskel looked at their food questionably. Geralt assured, "Believe it or not, Jaskier can cook."

Vesemir added, "I suppose at least one of you had to learn."

"I can forage!" Geralt exclaimed, "I can collect poisons and make potions. I can find food."

"Finding food is not the same thing as cooking it," Jaskier added.

Geralt sat in defeat as the others started their breakfast. He thought of his best friend. Jaskier the Bard, Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove, Professor Pankratz, The Sandpiper, whoever he was at the time, he never failed to surprise him. Geralt smiled to himself and was grateful he had met such a man.