Disclaimer: Don't own the show or characters. Just felt the need to have some fun with them. If they were mine, the show would be going in a totally different way.
Gingerly, he sat down cradling his right arm close to his chest while his left was wrapped securely around his midsection. "Well this truly sucks," he thinks to himself. He adjusts to a more comfortable position with more or less of a grimace. Everything from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes, hurt. Not just a sore hurt, but a pulsing pain that only intensified if he moved or breathed. He could probably handle the not moving part for the good part of the rest of the day, but the not breathing part would be difficult. It wasn't like he could hold his breath: he would eventually die. Come to think of it, he didn't really think he could even hold it for that long. He was never that good a swimmer any way.
He had no recollection of how long he had sat on the couch; he must have dozed off for a few hours. He wasn't sure what had woken him up, but the resounding thud on the front door summed it up for him.
Without thinking, he proceeded to jump up off the couch to answer the door. That was a mistake. The instant he was up on his feet, vertigo hit him full force and his muscles screamed in protest.
"Gah," is all he could say without throwing up what little he had eaten today due to the swirling of the room. He again, brought his arm around his ribs and protectively his other up to his chest, doubling over. He tried to breathe through the pain and nausea, willing it to at least dissipate to a more manageable level.
In his haste to recover from this, he had forgotten why he had gotten up in the first place.
"What's taking him so long?" Monroe said to himself. He once again resorted to pounding on the wood that separated him from the warm confines of Nick's house. It had to be at least thirty degrees out here. He had the slightest idea why he was out here freezing his balls off, waiting so patiently for the Grimm to answer the door. Well, the said Grimm had so pleasantly called him and asked - more like demanded his help on a detective case he was working on. Monroe had so politely told him he would be over in ten. He remembered hanging up the phone haphazardly, and grumbling some inappropriate words directed at Nick. He did like Nick, he really did, Nick just called him up at the wrong times. He would rarely call when he was doing nothing. He would usually interrupt his rest or his meal times. "Did Nick ever eat or sleep?" he thought.
Monroe was now getting irritated. If Nick didn't care enough to let him into his house after about twenty knocks, why should he care about helping him solve his case that probably had something to do with an outraged Wesen.
"Nick! Come on, Dude! It's freezing out her! Open up the door before I resort to opening it for you!" After Monroe didn't get an answer from the house, he wondered if Nick was even home. He quickly checked the driveway. Nick's car was there, parked in the middle of the small slab of concrete. If his car was there, why wasn't he answering the door?
The Blutbad rounded the house once again and quickly walked up the three steps to the front door. He decided to knock again. Nick could probably be in the bathroom or the basement where he couldn't hear the door. But, Monroe couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right with the Grimm.
Monroe had been right. Inside the house, Nick was still battling the pain. He was now leaning heavily on the armrest of the couch with his uninjured arm bearing most the weight his legs and feet could not. His legs felt like they were filled with Jell-O with the addition to the throbbing agony in his left ankle. "Great, add another injury to the mix and you get one very messed up guy," Nick mumbled underneath his breath. He tried to move away from the couch to try to sit back down, but his foot had gotten caught in the rug that had been placed beside the couch.
He couldn't even catch himself before he fell. For one thing, it happened so fast, he didn't think any on could catch themselves unless they were some type of vampire or something with fast reflexes. For another, he had only one arm to catch himself as the other one was useless due to the little incident earlier that day.
Nick had hit the floor with a small "thud." He now lay with his back facing up to the ceiling and his face smashed against the carpet. He gasped as the fall had awakened many new aches and pains. What hurt the most was his arm; it pulsed excruciatingly with a vengeance he never truly felt before. All the way from the top of his shoulder to the tip of his middle finger had ignited with the pain he so desperately wanted to stop. Among the other injuries, his head and chest came in as a close second to his high pain level. He could hear his heart beating rapidly against his chest: his head thudding in tune with it.
He sucked in as much air as he could without aggravating his ribs, - which wasn't as much as he needed - to try to breathe through the agony, but it just resulted in a wheeze that left him even more breathless. As anyone would do when they couldn't breathe, he began to panic. He kept trying to take in deep gulps of air, but it was resulting in the same outcome. His vision began to blur at the edges; he was slowly losing the fight to stay in the world of the living. Eventually, he succumbed to the blackness and slipped into unconsciousness and failed to hear the frantic yelling and pounding on the front door from his best friend, the very concerned Blutbad.
"Nick! Come on man, open the door!" Monroe's heat was racing. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was really worried now. He had pounded on the door consistently, without any kind of response. Even though Nick was a prankster, he would never take it this far. "Come on, this isn't funny any more!"
Monroe couldn't stand the nagging feeling in his gut anymore. He stepped back from the door trying to get a good running start. Without any more thought, he rammed into the door and felt the splintering wood pieces sting his arms and face. After he had gathered his wits from his little "run in," he looked around the room to find his friend, the stupid Grimm.
He finally found him and what he saw was not a pretty sight. Nick was face first to the floor. Without even looking at his face, he knew that he was not well. He quickly ran to his side and turned him onto his back. He was extremely pale; his dark hair stood out against his translucent skin with beads of perspiration rolling down his neck and forehead.
"Nick! Nick!" Monroe tried to wake the younger man up. He gently slapped his cheek a couple of times and was rewarded with fluttering eyelids.
"Nick? Nick, you with me?"
"M'roe...Wha?" Nick slurred. He tried getting himself into a sitting position, but Monroe gently pushed him back down to the floor.
"Don't try to get up. You look like you might keel over and die if you even move a muscle."
Nick didn't protest. He was feeling worse for wear and really didn't feel well enough to move. He was wondering how he had ended up at his house let alone on the floor of his house. Eventually, it all came back to him quickly, a little too quickly which sent his head spinning in his weakened state. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to rid himself of the dizziness.
Monroe looked down at his friend. "You okay Nick?" When he didn't get a response, he thought Nick had fallen unconscious again. "Nick...Nick, you gotta stay awake!" he yelled frantically. "No' too loud..."M head hurtz..." "Sorry Buddy. Do you think we can get you laying back on the couch so I can see your injuries better?" "Kay," is all he got in return.
Monroe was hesitant to move him, but he couldn't just leave him there on the floor. He knew he could do more harm than good-by moving him, but his position on the floor didn't look all that comfortable.
As gently as the Blutbad could, he slid one arm underneath Nick's torso and the other under his knees. With that action, he was rewarded - he wouldn't necessarily call it a reward - with a cry of pain. He didn't know what injury he had aggravated, as most had been concealed, but he knew if Nick was voicing it, it had to be pretty bad. He quickly placed Nick in a lying position on the couch and tried to think what to do next. What had happened to Nick? Was he attacked by a Wesen, or simply a criminal out for revenge? Was the guy still out there?
Monroe had so many questions, but first he had to make sure Nick was alright.
"Nick? Can you tell me what hurts?"
Nick looked up at Monroe with bleary eyes. "'M fine," he stated quietly. "Come on Nick, you and I both know that you're not fine," Monroe said annoyed. Figures. Nick never admitted to pain that he felt. He was stubborn; too stubborn. He knew that Nick was hurting; the simple fact that he voiced his pain in the task of moving, let Monroe know that he was in fact, injured to the point where he would either need a lot of rest or a hospital. Monroe was inching towards a hospital and that was bad. He hadn't even seen any of the many injuries he knew were there, but he knew that Nick would never succumb to that fact unless he was dying and even that would become a struggle to convince him to go to one. He just hoped that it didn't come to that.
The only thing that Nick felt like doing was sleeping. He didn't want to tell Monroe what hurt and what caused his injuries. He was totally exhausted. He desperately needed and wanted to sleep for at least a week, uninterrupted. He decided the fastest way to get to that sleep was to comply with Monroe's question.
"'M head...arm," he gasped when he said this as he was rudely reminded of the fire burning deep within the limb, "n chest 'n ankle."
Monroe started looking over the Grimm's injuries. He started with his arm; looking at it made Monroe cringe in pain. Nick's shirt sleeve had been ripped open exposing a long gash across the skin covering his collarbone that extended to the end of his shoulder. It was discolored, swollen and slightly hot to the touch, the telltale signs of infection setting in. It also looked like his shoulder could be dislocated; possibly broken. Scaling his eyes down the rest of his arm, he found many more cuts and bruises.
Nick remained quiet; Monroe could tell he was in a half-conscious state and was actually glad that he was. If it looked too painful to touch, he couldn't fathom how it actually felt.
He looked over the rest of his injuries and came to one conclusion, Nick needed a hospital. Of what he could see Nick had many lacerations and bruises that scattered all around his body. His torso had dark purple and brown splotches littering both sides. His ankle was swollen slightly; probably just sprained, but still painful as ever. His hair was matted to the congealed blood that stuck to the wound on his scalp. It looked bad, but then again head wounds always look worse than they are. He probably does have quite the concussion, though. Overall, Monroe thought that the worst injury was probably his arm. But, that was without thinking of internal bleedings and organ problems. Great, now he was thinking of scenarios with grave outcomes. One consisted of Nick dying right then and there because of internal bleeding, or because of his heart failing to beat another time. Instead of thinking of what could happen, why don't you get the severely injured - maybe even critically injured - Nick to the hospital to prevent your very thought out scenarios? Monroe's rational part of his brain said. Yeah, let's do that, he answered in his head.
"Okay, let's do this!" Monroe tried to prepare himself for what he had to do next because he really did not want to do it. "Nick. Nick." As gently as he could he shook his half-conscious friend.
"Hmm?" Nick muttered trying to open his half-closed eyes. It was becoming harder and harder to stay in the world of the living. "I'll expl'n la'er." Right now I need a nap. Eventually, his exhaustion won out and his weakened body succumbed to the darkness. He wasn't aware that Monroe was desperately trying to keep him awake by slapping the living hell out of him.
Monroe would soon find out that he wouldn't get that explanation any time soon. There was still more to this than meets the eye.
A/N: So what did you think so far? I'm new to this and would like to know how I am doing. I know that this is a pretty long chapter, but it was already typed up, so I said, why not? Please review and tell me what you think! It will make my day! If you are the first to review, I'll give you a virtual hug! Come on now, who could refuse that?