Monroe woke up to a splitting headache and the sun spilling into his bedroom. He lifted his arm and squinted at the Roman numerals on his watch. This was one of those times when he briefly wished that he'd opted for a practical digital watch over the small and difficult to read wristwatch that he had on. But he just figured that was the price of integrity. He gave a small grunt when he realized he'd overslept doing his pilates by two hours. When there was no sound of indignation from the other side of the bed about the disruption of his sleep, Monroe's still half asleep mind registered that Nick wasn't there.
There were a few minutes of wild panic as distant memories of the night before flashed into his head. They had been in a museum looking for a hexenbiest that had mixed mind altering potions that had made a few non-wesen men very susceptible to a particular idea - that of stealing the better portion of an antiquities exhibit on her behalf. The potion had been similar to the one that Adalind had used on Hank, differing by only a few, but very significant ingredients. Since it was meant for more than one person, the effectiveness was lower, but the hexenbiest had made sure to find men who were already invested in a life of crime and just adjusted their current crime to her will.
Unfortunately for both the hexenbiest and Nick, giving these criminals the potion in order to work for her was not the equivalent of getting them to work with each other. Consequently, her first attempt had failed, and one of her men was dead, and another one had told Nick enough of what was going on to deduce most of the hexenbiest's involvement. After which, Nick had decided to try to stop the robbery in progress.
Monroe had met Nick at the museum's entrance, with the potion's antidote in hand. It was after hours, and they had both found the museum's ambience to be more than a little off kilter. One might go so far as to say creepy. Nevertheless, Nick had a job to do, and Monroe figured he might as well provide some back-up. He may have had some pacifist tendencies, but he let those go by the wayside easily enough when it came to protecting his friends, especially his significant other.
Unfortunately, when they went into the museum, there was no sign of the men they were looking for or the hexenbiest -though that was less surprising- in any of the galleries. Nick, always reluctant to give up, pushed his way into a closed off storage area that Monroe wasn't certain the Portland PD was supposed to have access to. This had led to both of them breathing in some strange mist that Monroe distantly remembered having a cloying scent of cinnamon and mint.
He can't say he remembered much clearly after that. He knew that whatever had been in that mist had caused utter chaos for the rest of the evening. He remembered distinctly that they had somehow dragged themselves outside the museum, and once outside it, they had done things with each other that they likely could have been arrested for public indecency for. He felt fairly certain that a fountain and a certain lack of pants had been involved. They had been all over each other, and he didn't think they would have been able to stop, even if they had wanted to.
At one point, Nick had a moment of clarity long enough to pull out his cell phone and find Rosalee's speed dial. He distantly heard Rosalee trying to ask them pertinent questions about what was going on, her tone patiently trying. She'd clearly figured out enough to know that this wasn't really something she wanted to hear over the phone, but also that they might be in real trouble. Likely because Nick had yelled at her in a sharp, fearful tone when she'd threatened to hang up. Then, he thought that Rosalee must have come to get them because he remembered leaning against the leather interior of a car that he's only vaguely familiar with. He wasn't sure how Rosalee knew where they were as he can't imagine either of them had enough mental capacity to tell her.
Whatever had been in that mist had certainly driven up their libido and had an intoxicating effect. However, what Monroe did remember seemed fairly straightforward and logical with the exception that Nick seemed to have been shouting intermittently about the fountain's snakes coming to life.
Monroe shook his head and groaned inwardly as he decided that whatever had happened last night needed to be discussed as soon as possible for a variety of reasons. He glanced at Nick's bedside table and saw that his cell phone was still there, and his leather jacket was crumpled up on the top of his dresser. He sighed in relief.
Then he heard a broken sob emanate from the hallway. He wasn't sure what had brought that on, so he shrugged on a t-shirt and slowly walked down the hall to where a thin trail of light from the bathroom was falling on the beige carpet. He knocked hesitantly, "Nick...you okay?"
"Yes," Nick said before making sounds that suggested he was regurgitating last night's spaetzle and, possibly, yesterday morning's bagels. Then he amended his answer to, "Well...maybe not."
Monroe paced in a small circle around the hallway twice, then he rested his hand on the bathroom's door knob for a moment before twisting it. To his relief, Nick hadn't bothered to lock the door. Nick looked up at him with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment as Monroe moved to sit down on the edge of the bathtub.
"Man, that stuff hit you a lot harder than it hit me. Waaay harder. I think I'll take my headache," Monroe said as he rubbed his hand along his forehead. Nick's brows knitted together for a moment before he leaned forward over the toilet once more. After a moment's hesitation, Monroe started running his hand down Nick's back in soothing strokes, unsure what else he could do, or if Nick even wanted him in the bathroom. It was one of those things people sometimes like to be alone for, after all. But he really didn't want to leave him alone.
When it seemed like Nick was finished, though at that point Monroe wasn't sure what could be left, he pulled down a bottle of Pepto Bismol from the medicine cabinet, poured some into a measuring cup, and handed it to Nick before sitting back down on the tub.
Nick swished it around for a minute, gave the pink liquid a look of disgust, and then swallowed it with a grimace. Then he slumped against the side of the bathtub below where Monroe was sitting and leaned against him, placing his hands firmly on the tile as though it were an anchor, "If I hadn't just done it three times, I'd think throwing up was the better option. What the hell kind of wesen concoction did we breathe in last night?"
Monroe rolled his eyes when he noticed that Nick was now looking up at him waiting for the answer, "Whatever you may think, I really haven't been, you know, mastering potions in my spare time. I think we're going to have to crack a book on this one."
"Or ask Rosalee..." Nick suggested, tilting his head slightly. It spoke volumes about how miserable he currently was that it sounded a little more like a question than a definitive course of action.
"Uh yeah. I'll call her. Think you're okay to, uh, maybe, uh, take a shower?" Monroe asked, in his best attempt to politely alert Nick to the fact that he had signs of emesis in his hair.
Nick gave a weak nod as he wrapped both arms across his stomach and leaned forward. Monroe decided he'd come back in a few minutes just to make sure Nick had made it off the floor, "And please don't lock the door. I'm, you know, worried about you."
"I'm sure I'll be fine. But I'll leave the door alone," Nick said as he nodded unconvincingly.
Nick would have been hard pressed to explain how much pain he was currently in. It felt to him that a million small knives were poking into each of his internal organs, and one of them was due to burst at any moment. Rationally, he thought he really ought to be asking Monroe to take him to a doctor. Irrationally, he thought that if he waited for that dreadful pink stuff to kick in or the after- effects of that drug -which was currently having no lasting effects on Monroe - to wear off, he would be fine, and he could go to work and go on with his day.
How he was going to get to work when he hadn't yet managed to solve the problem of getting off the bathroom rug was not something Nick wanted to think about. He knew he really needed to shower, firstly because he didn't enjoy the smell of vomit clinging to him and secondly because Monroe would know something was really wrong if he didn't. But he was finding it difficult to find the will to move.
If it weren't for the hexenbiest on the loose, he might not have been completely against staying home for a day or two. However, with the information that he had collected on her, he didn't think anyone else in the department would be able to solve the case. He'd told some of it to Hank, but he wasn't sure Hank understood how powerful and dangerous wesen potions could be. And he really didn't want to tell Hank about what Adalind had done to him.
He sighed heavily as he placed his hands on the edge of the bathtub and worked to pull himself to his feet. He gasped sharply as the already severe pain amplified tenfold. The room started to spin, and his eyes began to water. He clutched at his abdomen with one hand and held the other over his eyes to try to make the room stay still. Small, blue and green dots of light began to dance across his vision.
He cringed and tried not to cry out against the obviously false phenomenon. Then the colored spots swam together and formed two writhing snakes. Oddly, the snakes seemed familiar to him, jolting at something just out of reach in his memory. They slithered in concentric circles over and over again. He might have started shouting about them. He might have started calling for Monroe. He wasn't sure. He couldn't think clearly anymore.
His legs buckled beneath him, and he felt something sharp brushing against the back of his head. Then he heard Monroe's voice shouting for him, "Nick? Nick! Oh my God! Nick!" Then there was a sea of blackness.
He woke up some time later to Rosalee and Monroe holding a whispered conversation; they both seemed to be sitting next to him, one on each side. He half listened without moving or opening his eyes because he really didn't want to tempt fate. His head was throbbing, and while the pain had lessened significantly, his stomach still didn't feel settled. The strange wash of smells that suggested he was lying on the cot in the back of the spice shop was not helping.
He caught his name a few times as well as Monroe muttering impossible repeatedly. And there seemed to be something they were pointedly not saying. Finally, as if it settled the matter, Rosalee asked Monroe, "Well, do you want to tell him or do you want me to?" She sounded hesitant and concerned. Nick couldn't imagine it was good news, whatever it was.
"Oh. My. God. I don't want to tell him. I don't want you to tell him. I don't want anyone to tell him. He's going to freak," Monroe said. Nick slitted his eyes open and saw that Monroe's eyes were wide and roaming the room erratically, not settling on anything. He seemed to be making a point of not looking at him for too long. "This is just not possible."
"Tell me what?" Nick asked as he tried to sit up. Monroe and Rosalee both shook their heads at him and pushed him back down.
"Nick, this is really, really unusual. I don't think I can stress that enough," Rosalee said as she rested her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "And we're not really sure how you're going to react."
"Though passing out on us again doesn't seem out of the question," Monroe muttered. "So probably best if you're, you know, already lying down."
Nick raised his head to Monroe, confusion and an inkling of fear spreading across his face. Monroe gave him a look that Nick thought might have been intended to be reassuring but fell short as his half-smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Nick reached for Monroe's hand and gripped it tightly. "Just rip the Band-Aid off, guys. I'm ready."
"I don't think you are," Monroe said, then appeared to wish he hadn't. He looked down at the floor for a moment before Nick tightened his grip on his hand, reminding Monroe that whatever was going on right now, he needed him for it.
"Nick, do you remember seeing a snake last night?" Rosalee asked as she tapped her fingers along a book that was lying open on the table next to her. "I'm not sure you would with ...um...how you were occupied."
"Yes," Nick said after a moment's recollection. He had thought they were all hallucinations brought on by the drug. "But I also remember seeing snakes in the bathroom before I passed out. So I don't know how meaningful that would be."
"It would have been a specific snake," Rosalee said, holding the book and its accompanying illustration up to him. Hera's Serpent was scrawled in small, silver letters beneath a snake that had alternating blue and green scales. "It's poisonous."
"And you think it bit me?" Nick asked, feeling like he was starting to grasp the gravity of the situation, his inkling of fear growing.
"No, we're almost certain that it did bite you. Right here," Rosalee said as she pressed her finger to two small sores on the back of his neck. He had thought they were mosquito bites when they had itched mildly earlier. Considering how rough the morning had been on the rest of his body, he'd hardly paid them any mind. "They're the consistent shape that the bite marks would be. Monroe noticed them when we were cleaning the blood off the back of your head. You hit the sink pretty hard."
"Because you really needed a concussion along with everything else," Monroe commented dryly.
Nick's eyes grew wide, and he might have started cutting off the circulation in Monroe's fingers. Barely processing their other remarks, he asked, "So, there's snake venom running through my veins right now?"
"Nick, it's not...it's not deadly. Relax," Monroe said when he realized what Nick thought. Nick's grip loosened slightly as he gave them both blank looks. If it wasn't deadly, why were they acting so odd?
"It, um, well, there is no good way to say this, really," Monroe said as he rubbed his free hand through his hair. "It, uh..."
Rosalee, clearly realizing that Monroe was never going to spit it out, said, "The venom attacks and then alters the anatomy of your sex organs."
Nick blinked, before giving Rosalee a sidelong glance, "Excuse me? What?"
"Dude, your insides were kind of literally being turned inside out," Monroe offered. Then with a short, forced laugh, he added, "Really, uh, explains why you were throwing up so much, huh?"
"I guess," Nick said skeptically, raising his eyes, as he reached over for Rosalee's book. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Monroe solemnly shook his head as Rosalee handed him the book. He looked at the illustrations and almost wanted to throw up again when he saw the graphic depiction of what had theoretically happened to his insides. The organs were twisting and expanding to twice their normal size with fluids seeping out of them at varying intervals. He held his hand up to his mouth and tried not to think about it.
"Nick..." Monroe said as he let go of Nick's hand and started rubbing his shoulder. "You okay? Or, okayish?"
"Not really. I don't think I completely understand what happened," Nick said, shaking his head, even though he thought he did understand. He just didn't want to. "You said my organs changed. Does that mean...?"
"That you currently have the sexual parts of a woman? Yes," Rosalee said as she gave him an apologetic look. "We took some of your blood, and, right now, your estrogen levels are high even for a woman."
"So are we just going to skip beating around the bush for part two too?" Monroe said before beginning to fidget absentmindedly with a bottle that was sitting on a shelf behind him.
"Part two?" Nick asked. He knew with absolute certainty he didn't want to know.
"The venom is usually used intentionally - not that it's used often or anything. I mean, Rosalee and I had never heard of it before. But, it's used for, uh, you know, fertility... purposes," Monroe said, barely choking out the last two words, clearly hoping Nick would put the pieces together himself.
"So...what you're saying is, what, that... I'm pregnant?" Nick asked. He started to laugh, nervously, at the complete and utter absurdity, but he stopped short because neither Rosalee nor Monroe were laughing.
"I'm pregnant?" Nick said again, his voice small and hollow. Rosalee and Monroe both nodded and looked at him expectantly. He knew they wanted to gauge his reaction, but he hadn't fully processed it yet. At the moment, he wanted to get up and run out of the spice shop and discover this was all a terrible dream. But moving still didn't seem like a good idea.
He started to laugh hysterically until his body was being racked by half sobs. Monroe kept running his hand down his arm soothingly, and it was about the only thing holding him together. Finally, he looked up at Monroe, "Can we just go home?"
Monroe nodded, "Yeah. Can you get up?"
Nick sat up and braced himself against a wave of nausea and dizziness. It was nothing compared to what it had been earlier, but he really didn't want to faint again, "If I lean on you, I think I can make it to the car."
After they had driven half way back to their house in complete silence, Nick leaned towards the center console, "Monroe, I love you."
"Well that's out of the blue," Monroe replied as he swerved to avoid a passing squirrel. Clearly that had been about the last thing he had been expecting Nick to say. "Not that I mind. I love you too."
"I keep wanting to talk about this, but I don't have the right words for it," Nick said. "I'm not sure I'll ever have the right words for it. But you're here for me, regardless. I appreciate it."
"Why the hell wouldn't I be? We'll figure this out. And we're in this together, for better or for worse," Monroe said as he clapped his hand on Nick's shoulder. "No matter how Goddamn weird it is."