His Dreams of Memories

13

Seeing Donna at 1:30 now happened every other Sunday. He begged to see her just in case something huge happened- that night's 'dream' is one of them.

"You and Geralt finally made up then," Donna watched the brunette nod slowly. As clique or fictional as it sounded, his chest hurt a lot like it was missing something. "It's affecting you, isn't it?"

Julian nodded again. "I feel empty... it's so... it hurts, Donna." The blonde woman nodded. "Why do I feel this way? If I think about any of it, my chest starts to hurt- I worried the shit out of my friend Damien when I cried while telling him about the origin of one of the songs my past self wrote."

Destiny is a bitch. That's something that Donna always told those who had this problem, which she admitted was rare, but she had a feeling that it didn't matter to Julian. All that mattered was the pain in his chest going away.

"Have you seen Geralt anywhere besides your dreams?" Donna asked, taking a sip of her green tea. "Passing by, ordering at the café... anything?"

The brunette shook his head. "I don't think so, I maybe saw the top of his head, but that's it. I don't know anything about him now- or where he goes for that matter." He paused. "But I've seen other people from my dreams if that matters at all."

Donna leaned forward with a raised eyebrow. "You've seen others from your memories?" Julian nodded. "Oh, you should've told me this earlier, we could've dealt with it..." she closed her eyes and sighed. "Name who you've seen, and who they were."

"Lambert was first," Julian recalled meeting the Witcher. "He ordered some coffee where I work, he's a Witcher, like Geralt. They're basically brothers.

"Then I met Cirilla, who's Geralt and Yennefer's daughter. She sold me some Girl Scout cookies... they were good.

"I met Yennefer a couple of days ago, she came to the café with Cirilla for coffee. The woman is a sorceress, my past self called her a witch." Julian wet his lips and looked to the ground. "But I haven't met him yet..." the disappointment and hurt in his tone was clear.

Donna set her tea on the table next to her. "Julian, it seems this has all leaned towards fate as well," the brunette frowned. "Or something like that-" she leaned forward. "Your case is... it's confusing. I'm just trying to understand most of it, but you're not giving me much."

Julian furrowed his brows. "In my thirty years of living, I've never been apart of something like this." (I know he's not thirty) "I'm telling you everything I come across, Donna. My memories, and now my interactions. I'm not the type to keep things from others unless I have a damn good reason to. And this," he gestured to his head. "All of this memory shit- you're going to hear all of it, I'm telling you all I can. So everything I've told you so far- it's all I know!"

With that final breath, Julian stood up and collected his hoodie, which he had taken off at the door. "I'll see you in two weeks, Donna."

Jaskier groaned in pain when something shifted beside him, or more of someone. He opened his eyes, meeting a pale, scarred backside.

It took him a moment to realize who was in bed with him. The events of the night before flashed through his head.

Geralt kissing him roughly, his clothes falling to the floor beside the bed, nibbles, and bites on his neck and shoulders, moments where he in a way controlled the Witcher.

"Quiet, Jaskier," Geralt grumbled. "Your thinking's nearly as loud as your talking."

The bard attempted to sit up but only groaned again. "You've permanently damaged my shoulders, you brute." His tone was joking, but serious at the same time. "Why are you so rough?"

Geralt shifted in the bed, now facing Jaskier. "It's not my fault that your body is fragile, Jaskier." His upper lip twitched when he scanned the bard's  body. "And I've made my mark, that's what matters." At that, he slowly got out of the bed, careful not to touch the other. He immediately made his way to the extra clothes he had.

"'Made your mark'?" Jaskier echoed, confused. "What do you- Geralt, where are you going?" He hissed in pain as he propped his elbows up, trying to sit up as straight as he could. "Geralt?"

The Witcher sighed. "Do you want breakfast or not? It's clear that you... can't get up on your own." A small smirk played onto his lips when he saw the bard make a shocked face. "I'll be back. Stay where you are, I don't want to have to haul you back up on the bed."

Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms, wincing afterward. He was going to have these bruises for quite some time.