Hello, everyone! I'm completely new to writing fan fiction. But I wanted to try so badly. And here it is: my first fic. I would appreciate critique or suggestions.
Thanks to my great beta-reader for enduring all my mistakes. :D
In my country, only two episodes have been aired for now (too bad for me). ;( So, all my knowledge comes from other fan fics. I hope this is not too OOC. Please enjoy reading. :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Rated M to be sure for blood and coarse language later.
Kein Guter Tag
No, this was definitely not the greatest day in Nick's life.
He had a bad start with a broken shower. Just cold water rushing down his sleepy body. It woke him up in quite an uncomfortable manner.
At work, he had a case he couldn't finish. They were stuck, and it seemed that everyone was blaming him for it. He had an argument with Hank, and Nick left the station earlier than in the past three years.
Storming out of the station, he ran directly into Monroe.
After the breakup with Juliette, Nick saw Monroe more often, and he was used to his presence and his showing up here and there.
However, he was surprised to meet the Blutbad right in front of the station.
"Hey, dude, where are you headed to?" Monroe asked, seemingly surprised as well to see the Grimm meters away from his beloved desk at this time of the day.
Nick sighed and dropped his shoulders. "There isn't any progress with the case we're still working on, and I had a little quarrel with Hank. Just had to get some fresh air now. What are you doing here, anyway?"
Suddenly, Nick sounded a little pissed. He just wanted a few moments to himself to calm down.
Monroe looked a little offended. "Well, just wanted to drop by. I was around..."
Nick huffed impatiently. He had no time for hanging around with his wolfish friend now. Even if he had enjoyed their talks in the last weeks, he had a case to be solved. And he was frustrated. And he took his frustration out on Monroe.
He cut him off mid-sentence.
"Well, sorry, Monroe. I just have no time for chatting around. Would you mind stopping with wasting my time?"
As Nick said it, he realized it was a bit too much. He saw the pang in his friend's eyes and, immediately, felt guilty. He lifted his hands in apology.
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just completely stressed out. I think I have to take some time to calm down. Sorry, Monroe."
Monroe glared at him, hurt and offended. He turned around and left in a huff.
"Monroe, please!" Nick tried, frustrated, but the wolf only shot him another pained glare and continued to walk away.
"Fine!" Nick yelled and turned away, too. He just stood in front of the station, deciding whether to feel angry or guilty. In the end, he headed out, still angry.
It seemed that all turned against him. Annoyed, he walked between the rows of parked cars and stepped on the street
Next, all happened very fast.
Blurred by his anger, Nick's short glance missed a car as he walked out onto the street. There was the sound of the brakes hitting at full and a loud thud.
Everything went silent for a moment except for the high and shrill sound in Nick's ears.
A car had hit him. That was all he remembered. Now, he was lying on the ground, his head and his left thigh hurting. Slowly, he picked himself up. He became aware of a group of people staring at him. A young woman, close to tears, was talking to him. And surprisingly, there was Hank hovering over him, looking worried. He was talking, too, but Nick couldn't understand anything. Luckily, the ringing in his ears softened.
"I am so sorry, sir. I'll call an ambulance. Are you okay? He was suddenly in front of my car. I didn't see him coming," the young woman cried, talking alternately to Nick and to the crowd staring.
"Jesus, Nick! Are you okay?" Hank's face was covered in concern.
It seemed that Nick had the luck of the devil. He felt nothing broken, and besides the dull pounding in his head, he seemed fine. He got up, accepting the helping hand from his partner.
"What are you doing here?" Nick asked in confusion.
"Just wanted to talk to you and apologize. I was out of the station when I heard the crash," Hand explained.
The young woman was sniffing silently and muttering to herself. Nick turned to her.
"It's okay. It was my fault. I'm fine. Just a little bruise on my thigh," he said. The woman stared at him in relief. Hank stared, too, in disbelief. It seemed a little wonder that Nick would survive an accident more or less without any wounds for the first time since Hank had known him.
He eyed Nick skeptically. "You are sure, Nick?" Nick nodded slowly. The crowd around them began to scatter now that everything had gone bland, leaving Nick, Hank, and the young woman alone.
Nick assured the woman once more that he was all right. He thought one short moment about going back to work, but Hank had already made the decision for him.
"I will drive you home," he announced. Nick didn't object. Slowly, they made their way over to Hank's car.
They drove in silence. Nick's head was still pounding, and he had a strange sensation somewhere between his ears and his nose. But he didn't want to bother Hank, just as little as he wanted to talk about their issue from earlier. So, he sat just in silence, leaning his head against the window.
Hank shook his shoulder gently as they arrived at Nick's place. Worriedly, the cop observed his partner. Nick was pale in the face as he stirred at his touch.
"Are you really sure everything is okay? Man, you just had an accident. You should probably be in the hospital." Hank raised his brow.
Nick shook his head gently.
"No, I'm fine. Lucky me. Sometimes even I seem to have a little luck."
Nick smiled weakly as he opened the car door. Hank nodded.
"Okay, just call me if you need anything."
Nick waved shortly goodbye as he climbed the steps to his house.
Tired, Nick just dropped his jacket on the floor, followed by his shoes and jeans. The house was silent. Nick went straight up the stairs and headed for the bedroom. He was so tired, and his head was throbbing.
He went into the small bathroom first and fumbled through the little cabinet for some painkillers. He took two pills with a little water. As he saw himself in the mirror, he was shocked. He looked horrible. He turned off the light and went to bed.
After Juliette had left, it was way too big for one person. Nick felt at little lost in the great bed. He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It wasn't even evening, but he didn't care. As he closed his eyes, he was fast asleep already.
Nick awoke with a start. He didn't know what had woken him up, but there was a strange scent in his bedroom. He sniffed. The room was dark, as was outdoors. Nick sat up against the headboard and looked at the clock.
23:34
What was this? There was this metallic scent. Nick fumbled through his pillows for the light switch. He breathed in surprise as he felt that his pillows were wet and clammy. And there was something liquid running down his lips and his neck. He licked his lips on reflex.
Blood.
Eventually, he found the light switch and turned the light on. His bed was a mess. Nick's mind got fuzzy as he saw blood over his pillows, on his mattress, and on his covers. He lifted one hand to his face and touched his nose. Immediately, his hand was covered in fresh crimson.
"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed and jumped out of his bed. The sudden movement made black dots dance in his vision. He searched the wall for a hold with one hand and gripped his phone from the nightstand with the other. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, leaving a red track behind.
Nick stood over the sink. Red drops were pooling in the white ceramic, and they wouldn't stop. Waves of dizziness overcame the young detective, and he breathed heavily. A slight feeling of panic tickled in the back of his mind.
Clumsy, he fumbled with his phone, finally finding the number he was searching for. He hesitated. What if he was still angry? Nick pressed the call button anyway.
He leaned his head backward, trying to soothe the bleeding while he listened to the free-line signal. On the third ring, the call was answered.
"What do you want?"
Nick could feel the anger in Monroe's voice through the phone.
"Monroe, see, I am sorry for..., " Nick started, but was interrupted by the Blutbad.
"What's wrong?" Monroe asked.
Nick was thankful that Monroe seemed to have a sixth sense for such cases. He could tell by the sound of Nick's voice that something was wrong.
"Would you mind coming over? I'm having some trouble here," Nick announced. He was leaning heavily over the sink again. He felt like his legs wouldn't support him any longer. He felt incredibly dizzy, and all the blood in the sink was making him nauseous.
There was a change from anger to concern in Monroe's tone.
"What is wrong? Nick, are you okay?"
"I don't think so," Nick admitted. "Would you come—"
The phone slipped out of Nick's hand and, with an unlovely sound, crashed on the tile floor.
Glass was breaking, and the line went dead.
T.B.C.
* Kein Guter Tag – No good day.
