Chaser Two - Grimm: (theme) police officer stumbling across something fantastical

Optional Prompts: (object) broken mirror, (colour) lilac, (emotion) shame

HG: (word) ruin, (dialogue) "Please don't.", (pairing) Seamus/George

like lightning; like peace

Seamus sat alone at his kitchen table with his eyes squeezed shut.

Flashes of his last case plagued his mind. They seemed to be on infinite repeat ever since the case had come to a close two months ago. It was the house in ruin; the girl's mutilated body; the sinister smile on Avery's face as he sat waiting for them to find him covered in blood. After that, his memories had blurred as Seamus had seen red and had hospitalised Avery. Those initial snapshots, however, refused to stop splattering themselves across the forefront of his mind.

You could have saved her; you could have been better.

Seamus' head twitched as his inner voice scolded him. It was right, of course; if he'd figured it out sooner that little girl wouldn't be dead. Her family wouldn't have a gaping hole that their daughter should have filled.

Slamming his fist against the table top, Seamus stood up suddenly, the kitchen chair clattering to the floor.

"For feck's sake, Seamus," he hissed.

The kitchen had gone dark whilst he'd had his eyes shut. The display on the oven was blinking 00:00 and Seamus frowned as he tested the light switch. The lights didn't come on and he exhaled. With the storm that seemed to be raging outside, it was no wonder the power was out. He went and checked the fuse box anyway, but it was definitely an area outage.

With his laptop dead and no power, tonight was going to be an endlessly painful night.

Seamus occupied himself by wandering around with a dimming torch lighting whatever candles he could find. There weren't many, but there were enough to illuminate the house so that he could walk around without a torch.

Scrolling through his phone he had three voicemails, none of which he wanted to listen to. But he guessed it was probably best to get through them now rather than later.

Inhaling deeply, he hit call.

"You have three new messages, and two saved messages," the voicemail said. "First new message; received today at ten twenty-two AM."

"Hey baby, it's your mammy. Give me a call, love."

Seamus swallowed thickly and pressed one to save the message.

The second message was simply a burst of strange static before it cut out. He hit three to delete it straight away before the voicemail moved on to the final message.

"Third new message, received today at three fifty-seven PM."

"Hey, mate. It's Dean." It had been a while since he'd heard Dean's voice instead of talking just over text. "I just thought I'd give you a call, see if you want to go out for a drink this week. I know you're finding it hard with this compulsory leave and shit, but you need to get out. Or maybe you can come to mine, or I'll come to yours. Just drop me a text, Seamus. I'm here to help. Talk soon."

Seamus' finger hovered over the three on screen before he ended the call instead.

Finding himself still madly ashamed of his behaviour and feeling lost, Seamus didn't know how to keep his mind off the last case and off Dean. Turning to the bathroom, he went to the sink and ran the water. It cascaded against the porcelain, splashing his shirt and flooding the floor. Swearing under his breath, he reduced the pressure and rinsed his face before looking up into the broken mirror above. He broken it over a week ago, punching it so hard that he'd had to go get his hand stitched up in A&E.

He was just about to splash his face again when something moved in the cracked mirror that wasn't him.

Spinning on his heel, Seamus turned to the empty doorway behind him.

"Who's there?" He automatically switched to the tone he used at work. "I'm warning you now, I'm a police officer."

Moving on the balls of his feet into the hallway, Seamus was greeted with the flickering darkness he'd been in since the power cut. His hand moved to his pocket where the torch was stored. Flicking it on, a dusty beam of weak light appeared and he searched the darkness, finding nothing. Seamus carefully moved to the left, feeling a pull in that direction for some reason.

He felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck as he crept forward. Feeling a crackle around him, the lights suddenly burst to life above his head.

Something felt really off about this whole situation. Seamus felt more confident as his eyes adjusted to the light, taking in familiar surroundings. With the lights back on he was absolutely ready when a figure moved in front of him. He raised the torch above his head to strike.

"Please don't," the figure pleaded.

Seamus hesitated. The man had his arms up over his head in defence; his legs were slightly bent as he cowered. Lowering the torch, Seamus frowned. Through the gap between his freckled arms, Seamus could see ginger hair and, even stranger than that, pointed ears like a Christmas elf.

"I'm not going to hit you," Seamus said eventually. "You can relax, I guess."

The man straightened up, moving his arms slowly back down to his sides. It was at this point that Seamus finally got a good look at the intruder. He was quickly realising that the man was stranger that just the pointed ears that were twice as tall as normal ears. His brown eyes were large and rounder than Seamus' and on his right hand side he had white and lilac markings down his neck like lightning. His clothing was strange too, but not totally out of the ordinary. He wore a faded shirt with several buttons undone, which showed yet more markings.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my flat?" Seamus asked.

"I felt your pain from my tribe's land in the south," the man said.

Seamus raised an eyebrow, confused. "You what?"

He put an arm across his chest diagonally and bowed his head, getting down on one knee. "I'm sorry. How rude of me. I am George, fifth son of Molly and Arthur of the Burrow. I believe that we are soul bound."

Well, that, was unexpected.

Seamus found himself lost for words. The man, elf, George looked so serious that he truly wasn't sure how to respond. His eyes feel back on he swirl of white a lilac markings on George's skin.

"I—what." Seamus took a deep breath. "Is this a joke?"

"Whilst my brother and I are the jokers of our family, this is not one of them," George replied, cocking his head to the side slightly and then holding out his hand. "Take my hand."

If Seamus wasn't entirely convinced he was dreaming, he probably wouldn't have done it, but instead, Seamus took George's hand. It felt like electricity shot through him. He jerked, gripping tightly to George's hand and then his body stiffened. Vision going white, Seamus wasn't sure that was happening, but suddenly he felt lighten than ever. For the first time in months, he felt at peace.

He didn't deserve peace.

Ripping his hand away, Seamus stumbled falling back.

Catching the wall, he just about stopped himself from hitting the floor. Blinking harshly, his eyes refocused. George was peering at him curiously, seeming as though he was confused.

"What the fuck was that?"

"We are soul bonded," George said.

Seamus scoffed. "And what on God's earth does that mean?"

"I don't understand. Do you not have this concept in the human world?" George responded.

"The human world," Seamus echoed, shaking his head in disbelief.

George offered to explain, but honestly, Seamus just needed a strong drink and to sleep. And yet, selfishly, he craved that peace he'd had just seconds ago. Whatever George was, whatever he did, he wanted more. And honestly, he was willing to let the elf-slash-man stay in his house as a last resort.

Seamus had a non-human in his apartment.

Things were going to change.