Chapter Text
He was able to stay for a little while longer, but sooner than Geralt would have liked, his husband was breaking the news that they were going to have to part for the night. He needed to get home to be with Ciri. She’d been a real trooper putting up with the constant babysitting, but she needed her dad.
Anyway, Jaskier deserved to get out of the hospital for a while. One of them at least should get to be at home.
“I’ll be back first thing after I get Ciri to school tomorrow,” Jaskier promised. “And if you need anything, please call. Even if you’re just feeling lonely, or you can’t sleep, okay? I’m still here for you.”
“I know you are.” Geralt could tell he felt guilty about leaving.
“Okay.” He kissed Geralt on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Love you too, Jask.”
Geralt expected to spend the next twelve hours alone trying to endure his discomfort, and hopefully get more sleep. He was pleasantly surprised, shocked even, when another visitor appeared at his door not long after Jaskier left.
“Vesemir.”
He hadn’t realized how much he’d been needing his own dad until he was standing right there in the doorway, and Geralt felt so relieved he thought he might start crying again.
“Hi, Wolf.” Vesemir smiled, taking Jaskier’s seat at the bedside.
“Nobody told me you were coming.”
Vesemir chuckled. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming,” he said. “Jaskier called earlier, and I packed a bag as soon as the call ended. Didn’t even take the time to text him my plans.”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he apologized. “I should’ve come earlier, but I didn’t know how difficult things had gotten. I should’ve made sure to be more in the loop.”
“It was never supposed to get this bad,” Geralt mumbled.
“I know, kiddo. You’re getting through it though, and I’m really proud of you.”
Everyone seemed to be proud of him today. They had no good reason to be—the bar was so low right now.
“So Jaskier called?” It made sense, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about it.
“He did. It was while you were asleep earlier this afternoon.”
In the wake of the meltdown then.
“He told you.”
Vesemir nodded. “And I’m glad he did. You’ve got a smart husband, Wolf. He knows when to ask for help.”
Geralt couldn’t help but feel like this was a jab at him, but he also realized that his ego was a lot more fragile at the moment. Vesemir wouldn’t ever say something to upset him on purpose.
“What did he ask for help with?” He thought he knew, but he asked anyway.
“He needed some help processing the meltdown you had earlier,” Vesemir replied, completely candid. “So when you woke up he’d be able to help you with your processing.”
“Oh.”
“He did the right thing, Wolf.”
“No I know,” Geralt said, pulling his hurt arm under the weighted blanket. “I’m glad he did.”
“Was he able to help you work through what happened?”
“Yeah.” He was looking intently at the foot of his bed again.
“But you’re still feeling bad about it, huh?” He knew him too well.
“It’s just so hard not to.” And it was hard to talk about it with people who weren’t familiar with the acute embarrassment that came with losing control like that, no matter how well meaning they were. “What did you tell him?”
“I told the story about the first time you had a meltdown after you moved in with me,” Vesemir replied. “I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine.” Geralt still didn’t make eye contact. “It helped, so…” he trailed off.
“Geralt, you don’t need to feel embarrassed.”
“Everyone keeps telling me that, even though I’ve done nothing but embarrass myself since this all started.”
He’d thrown up in front of practically every family member he had, was violently ill from both ends multiple times in front of his husband, several nurses, and his doctor. He’d been crying constantly, and now he’d had not one, but two bad meltdowns. He wasn’t sure how much more vulnerability he could be expected to show.
“I remember how embarrassed you were back then too,” Vesemir observed. “For a month after that meltdown you wouldn’t speak unless you were spoken to, and I could hardly ever get you to look me in the eye.”
“I’d put a hole in your wall,” Geralt reminded him.
“You put a dent in my wall,” Vesemir corrected. “But then a month later, I remember you came home from school one Friday and you were so excited because you’d gone on a field trip to the planetarium, and got to see the show about the planets.”
Geralt had almost forgotten that his last special interest before rugby had been space. He hadn’t thought of that planetarium in years.
“I sat there and you talked to me about it for an hour, and I remember just wanting to cry because I was so happy. That was the first time you’d looked at me without any shame since before you’d had the meltdown.”
“And then the next day you took me back to the planetarium so we could watch the show together, and Lambert kept trying to climb over the barrier to the rocket ship display. That security guard watched him like a hawk the entire time we were there.”
“Yes, and it was still a lovely time.”
“It was,” Geralt agreed.
“So wouldn’t you like to skip ahead to that lovely time?” Vesemir asked. “Do you really feel like you have to go through the month of shame first?”
“I want to skip ahead to the time when I get to go home,” he said, unable to stop himself from sounding pouty.
“I know you do, Wolf. We’re all really hoping you get to go home soon. But do you want to spend however much time you still have to stay here being even more miserable? Do you want to keep punishing yourself, or do you think you might be able to show yourself some kindness, and make this hospital stay as easy on yourself as possible?”
“I don’t even know where I would start.” This stay had been nothing but difficult since the very beginning.
“How about you start with telling me honestly how you’re feeling, so we can work out if there’s anything we can do to help with your symptoms.”
“Mental or physical?”
“We can start with whichever one is easiest.”
Physical then.
“I just feel so sick, dad. My stomach aches and I’m so nauseous all the time. I can’t seem to stop throwing up, and it’s left me so weak that I can’t hardly keep myself upright,” he said, deciding not to hold back. Vesemir had asked for honesty and he was going to get it.
“My throat is absolutely raw from all the puking, and the crying—which has left me so congested that I sound like I have the flu, and has given me a really fucking awful headache.”
“I am so sorry Wolf,” Vesemir commiserated. “That’s more than anyone should have to deal with.”
Geralt agreed.
“Can you think of anything that might help with those symptoms?” Vesemir continued.
He just shrugged. “They’ve got me on morphine and antiemetics pretty much constantly, I think,” he said. “Not sure much else can be done.”
“Have they tried anything else since you’ve been here?”
He tried to think back, and was surprised when he actually remembered something. “Yeah, they gave me something to help my throat the other day. It was really nice.” If he could remember what it was called. “A vaporizer, I think.”
Vesemir nodded knowingly, and before Geralt knew it he was being set up with the same vaporizer he’d had before. The steam felt lovely on his sore throat, and it started to clear his sinuses as well.
“See?” Vesemir said. “It feels good to be kind to yourself.”
“Hmm.” He used having the vaporizer over his mouth as an excuse not to answer.
The conversation was pretty one sided after that, but Vesemir didn’t mind. He told Geralt about everything going on back home—about his students, about Lambert, about the renovations he was doing to the house.
Geralt would have been happy to keep listening to him all night, but much sooner than he’d like, visiting hours were ending, and Vesemir was leaving to go back to the house. It wasn’t fair. He, Jaskier, and Ciri would all get to spend the night together, and have breakfast together in the morning while he stayed here alone.
It didn’t help that he’d slept most of the afternoon. He was exhausted—he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been exhausted—but unfortunately he was not sleepy.
He was still way too overstimulated to just try and lay still, so he spent a few restless hours flipping channels.
After the day he’d had, he was honestly surprised at how long he made it before he started to get upset, but after midnight came and went without even a yawn, he decided to do something about it. Vesemir had said he should be kind to himself. This felt like the kindest thing he could do.
He waited for the nurse to come take his vitals, practicing what he was going to say in the meantime. He didn’t love the idea, but he knew it would help, and he liked to think about how proud Jaskier would be when he told him in the morning. He swallowed his pride.
“Hey,” he asked after the nurse finished taking his vitals. “Is there any way I could get a sleeping pill?”
“Yeah, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m absolutely exhausted, but since I napped all afternoon I just can’t fall asleep.”
“I don’t think you’re cleared for oral medication, but I’ll go see about something to put in your IV.”
“Thank you.” Just the thought of that drug induced sleepiness made him feel more relaxed.
She was only gone for a minute, and she returned with good news.
“I’ve got permission to give you the good stuff.” She smiled.
“Thank you so much.”
“Of course, Geralt. You’ve had a rough day. You deserve some sleep.”
“Hey, I don’t know your name.” He looked up at her while she injected something into his IV port. “You know mine.” And she’d seen him puking, and naked, and sobbing.
“Louisa,” she replied, smiling. “I have to admit. My son is a big fan of yours. He’s eight”
Geralt chuckled. Poor kid. “I’m sorry. He’s probably not going to see me play any time soon.”
“I’m sure he’ll be bummed, but he’ll understand,” she told him. “You know, he’s got autism. One of his favorite things to do when he’s feeling overstimulated is to watch old rugby games with his noise canceling headphones. You’ve been his favorite player ever since you did that interview during autism acceptance month.”
He was shocked at how emotional this made him feel.
“He sounds like a neat kid,” Geralt said. He wasn’t sure if it was the conversation, or the drugs, but he actually felt content for perhaps the first time since getting sick.
“He definitely is.”
“I’d be happy to sign something for him,” he offered. “If he doesn’t mind crowds, I’m sure I could get you two some tickets.”
“That’s very generous of you,” she said. “And I’ll probably take you up on that once you’re feeling a little better, but for now I bet you’re already starting to feel sleepy.”
Well now that she mentioned it. He yawned.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” Louisa told him. “You’ve had a long day.”
He had indeed. And he was already drifting off to sleep.