Divenire
Title: Divenire
Author: subobscura
Fandom: Grimm
Length: 2,095 words.
Rating: T for language and violence characteristic of the show
Characters: Nick & Monroe
Genre: Episode-tag
Warnings: None/Chooses not to warn
Summary: Nick becomes a little more proactive in his personal development after the events in Game Ogre.
Divenire: to become or grow.
"Classic fairy tales do not deny the existence of heartache and sorrow, but they do deny universal defeat."
-Greenhaven Press
Nick and Monroe were hiking far inside Forest Park, the old conifers forming a towering cathedral above their heads. Washed out light filtered down through the canopy, lighting the fog banks that swirled around them with an eerie glow that seemed to originate from within.
Nick picked up his stride, taking a deep breath and relishing that he finally could do so without a painful hitch in his side. He rotated his shoulder beneath the strap of his pack, and was pleased to feel a smooth, pain-free movement there as well. He was about as healed as he was going to get, four weeks out from Stark's attack in his and Juliette's home. The way things were going, the way the violence seemed to be ever escalating in his life, he was beginning to think he should enjoy these moments where he was NOT nursing some injury back to health. He was frustrated- he didn't seek these things out, but trouble always seemed to find him anyways.
They came to a clearing, oddly barren of the ferns that brushed their knees in the rest of the forest, leaving damp spots on their jeans and seeds clinging to their hems. The air was damp, gravid with the smell of water and earth and growing things. Fallen needles accumulated over years formed a soft matt that would cushion falls. This was a good spot to practice in.
Nick held up Monroe with a staying hand on the other man's shoulder. He liked the feel of the soft flannel, slightly damp from exertion and warmed from Monroe's body heat. "Let's stop here," he said, breaking their mutually agreed upon silence. Nick wasn't opposed to conversation in general, but life rarely left him time for contemplation, even before this Grimm thing.
Now things were piling up- the hours spent in the trailer, the lies he'd started to have to tell Juliette and Hank and Captain Renard, trying to repair the house in his extremely limited spare time. This was a rare morning, taken away from everything, guilt free because Juliette was at the practice seeing patients and Nick had racked up so much overtime, Renard had banished him from the squad room unless the city actually came under attack. Result: no murder on the agenda.
Nick wasn't like Monroe, could not sit around and read or tie fishing lures or contemplate life. Whatever it was that Monroe did when Nick wasn't around bothering him with probably stupid questions about Wesen. Nick stood by his assertion to Hank- even though he liked the guy, quite a lot, and owed him his sanity, Monroe was still a weird one.
Now they were irrevocably tied together by Monroe's assassination of Stark. Nick was only sorry he couldn't pull the trigger himself. Even though Monroe freely admitted to being a reformed killer, Nick had wanted to save him the heartache of taking a life. It was too much to ask of someone he'd just met. The heavy secrets they were carrying were tying them closer with every passing day.
Monroe had answered his call this morning like he had been expecting it. Maybe he was at that. Nick wasn't sure whether he was just that predictable, Monroe was that bored, or maybe the wolf did have some kind of as yet unexplored sixth sense. Nick was disinclined to investigate, because he had gotten his way after all, and here they were two hours later on Nick's invitation. Yeah, he knew he was kind of a pushy, selfish shit. He liked to think he was enlightened for at least recognizing the character flaw.
Nick set his bag of toys down with a decided clank. He hadn't really known what to bring, his training at the academy being a little short on medieval weaponry, and more along the lines of basic hand-to-hand and how to subdue a perp who was trying to flee. Somehow, Nick thought that wasn't going to cut it anymore. In the end, he'd ended up taking an assortment at random. So he had some hunting knives, a dagger, an axe (which in retrospect he probably should have left at the trailer, given Monroe's fear of the Grimm's penchant for beheadings). Plus a sword. Christ, he had a sword and was actually going to try and figure out how to use it.
So this was quiet contemplation followed by flat out physical exertion, an idea Nick could heartily get behind. Having to coddle his body and take it easy for a month was enough to drive him up the wall.
"Nick, man," Monroe was saying. "I love nature walks and all, but I'm really not sure how you expect me to help you with the Grimmish aspects of being a Grimm." He peered at Nick from across the clearing. "Are you sure that murder, death, and mayhem isn't, you know, part of your genetic code? I feel like this should come easily to you."
"Thanks for that comforting thought, Monroe. I know who I love to turn to when I need cheering up," Nick scoffed. "And Grimmish? Is that even a word?"
Monroe just sniffed haughtily, and turned away to start stringing up line to hang targets from. They both figured a good start would be ensuring that Nick's blows landed where and when he wanted them to.
"I know you're a pacifist now, relatively speaking. But you've been in fights in the past. You must have some idea of what I need to know. Plus, I'm guessing creatures don't fight in the same ways people do, and I know you have insight into THAT." Nick pressed his point, because really, he had no one else he could turn to.
"First of all, would you stop saying creatures? It's derogatory and offensive. The term is Wesen, thanks. And second, there isn't a whole lot of tactical skill in fighting like a Blutbad. Hunt, chase, kill. Very straightforward. I'm thinking there's more sneaking and underhandedness involved with being a Grimm," Monroe replied, neatly tying off a horizontal rope between two trees. Nick admired Monroe's uncanny competence in whatever he tried to do. Nick had a thing for really smart and talented people.
"Fine," Nick snarled. "You can stand on the sidelines and offer unhelpful sarcastic advice. I'm just going to start some warm up moves." Monroe beamed at snarking his way out of physically fighting Nick. He crossed his arms and stepped towards the edge of the clearing. Nick started doing some easy going kicks and punches in the air, just enough to get the blood flowing and the feeling of ifight/i to settle into his bones. He liked the way the cool air felt against his heated skin, the sweat starting to break out on his face and lower back.
"I can't let someone like Stark get the best of me again," panted Nick, executing a neat roundhouse kick followed by an upward hit with the heel of hand that would break his imaginary opponents nose and black their eyes. Supposedly, if done with enough force, it would also drive shards of bone into their brain and completely incapacitate them, but Nick hadn't had a chance to test drive his new moves. He supposed they might not work on a fully woged non-human anyway, but the training was worth it. "I lived through it once, only by sheer luck and Juliette being there. He was going to kill me for being a Grimm, I could see it on his face."
The thought was depressing. Nick doubted that was a rare reaction among Wesen, from what he'd learned so far. More were probably going to come, and more after that. He couldn't hide in his house the rest of his life. Whatever happened, he was still a cop, still sworn to protect the people of Portland, human iand/i Wesen. He believed in that more strongly than ever before. Marie was right that he had a responsibility, but Nick wasn't ready to give up everything for a murderous, nomadic existence that would probably end in his early demise. He hadn't sought out the powers of Grimm kind, would probably get rid of them if he knew how. But it was what it was. It couldn't be helped. It was time to embrace the more violent aspects of his heritage.
"Dude, you have picked up some serious new moves, I think. I don't remember you being this...predatory the last time I saw you fight. " Monroe was looking at him from the shade of the forest, a new respect gleaming in his red eyes.
"I watched some Krav Manga videos while I was laid up on the couch. I might even sign up for a class. I think I could justify it to Juliette as some kind of post traumatic reaction to Stark. Which I suppose it is in a way." Nick wasn't sad or afraid- he was angry, boiling with fury that Stark had invaded his home, had endangered Juliette, had tainted the Wesen community with his vile actions.
"Oh my God, you are fucking with me," Monroe howled. "You learned a martial art from watching YouTube?"
"Why, do you think these moves look good," Nick asked. He really had no idea. He was just repeating what he had seen others do. It didn't seem like it was that hard. "There was this one UFC guy who posted a bunch of clips on how to do different things. He's a world champion or something." He paused for a few minutes to take a breather.
"God help us," Monroe moaned. "Our fledgling Grimm is learning the dark arts from the goddamn UFC." Monroe paused and looked Nick up and down in that creepy, penetrating way he sometimes had. Those were the moments when Nick knew there was much more to his friend than what he presented to the world. "Though to be fair, yeah, you're looking very...controlled, I guess. I wouldn't want to meet you in a back alley. I didn't when we first met either. You still terrify me," Monroe said quietly.
That was a punch to the gut. Nick had never set out to be terrifying, except maybe to people he was arresting. He was a nice guy, which he knew because Juliette told him so all the time. Now people literally ran away from him. The worst was when they cowered in fear and abject terror. Besides making him feel like a horrible human being, it was getting really difficult to explain to Hank. The truth was, Nick terrified himself. He shouldn't know how to do these things. Fighting shouldn't feel like something he was remembering how to do, instead of a skill he was learning from scratch. If it was really genetic memory, some learned instinct from his ancestors, where would it end?
"Awww, Monroe, you know I'm a big teddy bear," Nick said. There was nothing to do but play it off. He wasn't ready for a serious conversation about what this all meant. He was still trying to wrap his head around seeing creatures. Seriously, his first Wesen case was finding little red riding hood, who really was taken by the big bad wolf who really did live in a cabin in the woods. He'd arrested goldilocks AND the three bears (four, actually, including mama bear). Thinking about it in any depth still made him a bit hysterical, to be honest.
"Well, you're no Jagerbear, that's for sure," Monroe said kindly, allowing Nick a graceful out. "But since you don't suck anymore, let's see what you're really made of going up against a Blutbaden."
"Cool," said Nick, taking up a loose fighting stance with a smile. "And later, I definitely want to try out that sword."
Author's note: I noticed there's a serious learning curve between the beginning and ending of Season 1 for Nick, physically speaking. He nearly gets beaten to death by Stark, but then goes on to behead two reapers and kill a Mauvais Dents. This is a little something to connect those dots.