Nick rarely took a day off of work. So Hank was able to notice when his partner took the same day off, for five years in a row. He knew something was up, so he asked the Captain if he could swing by to check in on Nick. Captain Renard told the detective he could have an hour to check in on Nick, but no more than that until Hank was done with work.

Hank pulled up to the home that Nick and Juliette shared. He knocked on the front door, and waited patiently on the porch. Hank's eyes widened when Nick opened the door. The pale detective was dressed in gray sweats and his hair looked like it had lost a fight with a blender. He could also see bags under Nick's eyes, showing the man's lack of sleep.

Nick cleared his throat and asked, "Is there something wrong?" Hank smirked and replied, "Funny, 'cause that's what I was going to ask you." Nick shrugged, stepping aside to allow his partner to walk in. He closed the door once Hank was inside and walked over to the couch in the living room. Hank followed, but took a seat in the chair next to the couch. He noticed several photo albums laying about the room, along with an empty glass and a half filled bowl of chicken soup.

"I just have a cold," he heard Nick say. "You can see it's nothing serious. I'll be back to work tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by Hank." The black detective shook his head and replied, "Nick, there's a reason I made detective. Now you can't tell me that you missing this day each year is a random coincidence."

Nick sighed heavily. "If you really want to know, this is the day most of my family died," Nick said.

Hank winced, feeling guilty that he even asked. He tried to apologize, but his partner just shrugged. Looking at the coffee table he saw an open photo album. He pointed towards it and asked, "Is that them?"

Nick nodded and explained, "That's me, with my dad, my sister and my mom. I found out a bit ago that my mom survived the car accident. No one else made it though. I keep thinking it should have been me instead of Jessica." Hank sighed. He understood what Nick was feeling.
Survivor's guilt weighs pretty heavily on a person.

Hank looked over at his partner and said, "Hey, man. I really am sorry about your loss. But they would want you to remember the good times. So why don't I take you out for a beer after work? You can bring Juliette, and that clock maker friend of your's if you want."

Nick shook his head and said, "Juliette's going away for a conference. But I guess it will help to get out of the house while she's gone." Hank got up and punched Nick lightly in the shoulder. "That's the spirit," Hank said. He sat with Nick for a little while longer, hoping to distract his partner from his grief.
Hank apologized for not being able to stay longer, but he had to leave once his hour was up. Once Hank went back to work, Nick found the motivation to take a shower. Dressing in a button up shirt and blue jeans, he hardly looked like he had spent the day on the couch. He called up Monroe, but the Blutbad declined since he had a date with Rosalee.

When Hank swung by the house later, he was glad to see Nick was already beginning to look better. The dark haired male locked up the house and drove to the bar, following his partner on the drive. Nick was glad to see the bar appeared to be Wesen free for the night. He was already in a sour mood, considering what today was, and didn't want any fuss from the creatures.

Several shots later, Nick could barely walk straight, so Hank snatched the Grimm's keys, and drove him home so that he wouldn't crash. The last thing Nick needed was for history to repeat itself.

Nick stumbled up the porch steps and dropped his keys twice. Had he been sober, his instincts probably would have kicked in sooner.
He closed the door behind him and paused, his hand not leaving the door knob. He could feel that something wasn't quite right. He licked his lips and slowly turned around to see a dark figure at the end of the hallway.

Two things were very obvious from how the figure was standing. Nick could tell it was a woman, and she was most certainly not Juliette. He crouched into a low fighting stance in case the woman decided to attack.

He heard her tsk softly and saw a large dog come into the hall. "Why Nick, don't you remember me?"
He frowned and held his position. He couldn't quite recognize the voice. The woman shook her head and stepped closer, the street light shining in through the window now hit her face. Nick saw wavy black hair and silver eyes, much like his. What was new about this face was the scar that went from the corner of her lip and hooked under her chin.

"Jessie?" He asked. She smiled at him and he knew he was right. His sister was standing in his house. After having been dead for eighteen years.