It was one of those days Nick didn't know whether he was coming or going. Maybe it was neither. Maybe he was just floating in limbo. At least it felt like it. There was this cottony feeling, the way his eyes itched, his body protested each move, and his bones seemed to creak.
Nick didn't know when he had last had an uninterrupted stretch of off-time or sleep. In the last days he had lived off coffee and fast food, as well as a chocolate bar hastily chewed down while waiting for results on a high profile murder case. A young woman had been found strangled, raped, and dressed up in garish clothes. Fingerprints had identified her as the personal assistant to a visiting businessman, who happened to be a very close and personal friend of the mayor. Renard had assigned Nick and Hank the case, had promised the mayor results and the best men on the job, and discovering a Grimm angle to it all hadn't helped.
She had been a sprite and her murder had kicked up waves in the creature community as well, especially since the man she had been working for was a creature as well. Nick had never been so glad for Renard handling matters on the political side of a case since Markus Holden-Rhys was not only powerful and loaded with money to burn, he was also a jagerbar. His mate was also handling the wesen politics involved, not just the fall-out of human affairs. As Guardian of the Portland protectorate, Sean Renard had everything under control.
That the officer on the case was a Grimm hadn't sat well with Holden-Rhys, but seeing that he couldn't do anything about it – Renard had told him quite clearly that Nick was handling it, that he was trusted – he had finally left him and Hank alone.
So Nick continued to let Renard deal with the creature community fall-out, a jagerbar out for blood, and the human political side, too. Renard was running interference, his face hard and unyielding most of the time. He got too many calls to count and Nick knew the other man was a living shield for him and Hank. None of the pressure Renard felt was ever transferred to the lead detectives.
It also meant he saw next to nothing of Sean privately either. Their training was put on hold, as was his time with Monroe. There was barely an evening to share a beer and Monroe remarked on how worn Nick looked.
The Grimm ignored it. He had to. He had a job to do.
Nick and Sean spent not a single private moment together and while he might have missed it, he had no free time to actually feel that way. Detective Burkhardt and Captain Renard saw each other at work, throughout brief reports on the current status of their investigations, but that was work; no private exchanges happened and the bond was clearly shielded.
Things were boiling up left and right as the political powder keg was close to explode with revelations after revelations. Not only had Holden-Rhys had a sexual affair with the murdered sprite, he had also been about to divorce his wife of fifteen years, who was an alcoholic and a jagerbar as well.
Hank had pursued the angle with the wife and a possible arranged murder of the mistress, Nick had researched into the dead sprite and had unraveled more and more complications. They finally did get their man – and it hadn't even been creature related. Just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But both Nick and Hank had had only as long as it took to book the perp, then new cases lined up.
"Must be the spring feelings everywhere," Wu remarked as he dumped a lab report on their desks.
"Happy Valentines," Hank grumbled.
"Suck it up."
"Been doing nothing but. Man, I can't look at another case report without going blind!"
The banter washed over him as Nick browsed through his notes. Words kept swimming in front of his eyes. He knew he needed a day off, but he couldn't just turn his back on a little dead girl that had been run over by some maniac trying to prove to some other hot-head that he had the better car.
Rubbing at his eyes, Nick blinked and tried to focus on the results from Trace. All he needed now was a positive match on the fingerprints and they had their guy. He hadn't just been a reckless, drunk driver; he had been insanely stupid to boot. Good for the police since this was a slam-dunk case if the prints matched.
Glancing at the wall clock he sighed. It was already late. He was surprised to notice that he was almost alone and faintly remembered his partner telling him he was about to head home, reminding Nick to do the same.
He had nodded. Now it was three hours later, he was alone in the room.
Wow. Time truly did fly.
Nick got himself some coffee – a black sludge, lukewarm, but containing enough caffeine and bitterness to jolt him a little more awake – and tried to sort the reports and evidence in a haphazard sort of order.
When he looked up from reading the lab results – they had the perp, it had been his fingerprints – the next time, he was startled by Renard.
He hadn't noticed. Damn! And he had a psychic connection with his mate which should at least tingle a little and warn him.
But there had been nothing.
Well, maybe there had been, but Nick had been too woozy and lost in thought to notice.
Or Renard had developed a new way of stalking closer unawares. Nick wouldn't put it past him. He was a predator and they moved stealthily. Still, usually he caught a slight notion of him. This time: zilch.
"I thought I had told you to go home, Nick," the captain said mildly.
iYou're exhausted, Nick. That's why you didn't sense me./i
It weren't words, just... sensations that translated into something like words. But Nick understood it clearly nevertheless.
Yes, Renard had told him to finish for today. He had, right? Before or after Hank? Nick had no recollection when. Today? An hour ago?
"Go home," Renard repeated.
Green eyes gazed at him and Nick read a longing in there that he felt himself. Private time; just a little time to themselves. But not at work.
Nick scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was just waiting on this." He held up the file. "Lab report tells us it was Rider. We got him."
"Wrap it up, then go. You need it. And good work." Renard gave him a brief smile.
iNick, go home. You're dead on your feet./i
"What about you?" he asked quietly, focusing enough to see the shifting in Renard's eyes, see the gleam of gold in the green.
"I'll be there," was the soft reply.
He looked at him, eyes never wavering, intent on making the other understand that Sean really wanted him home, too. This wasn't just a mate worried about the Grimm, this was the captain responsible for his subordinates.
Finally Nick nodded. He emptied his cold, stale coffee, then headed for his car. The cool air hit him, reviving his spirits just a little.
x x x
It was just his luck that he nearly got involved in a roadside accident and stopped to help. Five young people were in the car that had nearly run him off the road, all intoxicated, including the driver. They had swerved to avoid him and had ended up in a ditch.
He called his fellow officers and stayed to give his statement.
x x
By the time Nick got home it was close to three. The streets were silent and dark.
It was still a weird feeling to drive up a new road, not the one where he had lived for almost all his teenage and adult life. A quiet place with well-groomed lawns that led up to sweet little houses. Houses like his own. Nick walked into the freshly renovated home, one he shared with Sean despite the fact that the other man had never moved in. By now he was over more often than not and in the past three months a lot of his things had migrated over.
Like more than a toothbrush and spare clothes.
More than one suit or a tie.
More than a book or two.
It was weird and still strangely comforting. Nick had a few of his things at Renard's place, but to see that Sean accepted the new house as his home, too... Something inside Nick resonated with the pleasant emotions coursing through him. He might not be a territorial creature, but he was a regnant's mate. That his partner wanted to be at his home for more than a brief moment was... wanted, almost needed. And it resulted in a quiet, calm and very balanced bond when both just stayed inside and enjoyed the evening.
None of the items left at Nick's house would tip any of his friends off as to the real relationship between them. All of Renard's clothes were in the bedroom upstairs. Hank had never been there, aside from the first tour Nick had given them at the housewarming party. Wesen like Monroe smelled the regnant's presence in these walls, but that was okay. And those living near-by knew who and what Nick was. Their awe of the regnant was still present and would probably never fade.
x x x
Dropping the keys next to his wallet, Nick went through his mail, then let it drop right next to the keys and wallet. He was so tired, he couldn't read a whole sentence any more, let alone decipher his name on the envelopes.
His eyes burned, his muscles ached and each step was heavier than the last one. Everything was a blur. As he walked into the kitchen, he realized he had company.
"Sean?" he managed.
The other man looked up from his book. He was dressed in jeans and a dark blue shirt, with a white tee underneath. Socked feet and a slightly more unruly touch to his hairstyle completed the 'off duty' look.
How long before Nick had he arrived home?
"About time you found your way home." He sounded rather calm, but there was a sliver of worry and his eyes were sharp.
"Uh, I... there was a roadside accident..." The rest was smothered by a yawn.
Renard rose smoothly, a frown on his handsome features. "You're dead on your feet."
"I'm fine," he protested automatically.
"You've been working straight through several cases, Nick. I know. I'm your captain. And you're the Grimm. No sleep, no real food, and you want to give me 'I'm fine?'" An elegant eyebrow rose. "Nick, please."
He sighed. "I'm just tired."
And when did you turn into my keeper? he wondered, exhaustion unearthing a tiny mean streak.
"I'm not your keeper, Nick," Sean murmured, very recipient to the echoes of the bond.
A gentle hand cupped his cheek and Nick found himself more than willing to just lean into the warm contact, eyes sliding shut almost automatically.
"I'm your mate, Grimm. I feel responsible for you as your captain and as your mate. Running yourself into the ground won't solve anything."
Nick started to sway a little and a strong arm curled around his waist, keeping him steady.
"Let's get you to bed."
Any other time having his mate undress him would have been erotic, a turn-on, but not today. He got into his shorts and the old t-shirt he used as a pajama top, yawning heavily. He crawled under the covers as Renard closed the drapes, bathing everything in soothing darkness.
"You gonna stay?" Nick mumbled.
"You want me to?"
The Grimm glared a little at him for that question.
The mattress dipped under an additional weight and Nick snuggled close to the familiar presence.
Renard needed a lot less sleep. Perks of being what he was.
A hand caressed his back and ran through his hair. He sighed softly in pleasure, feeling sleep drag him deeper.
x x x
Renard watched his chosen mate fall asleep, never ceasing his gentle caress. He had been shocked to see the deep lines in the handsome face when Nick had come in, the dark circles under his eyes. He should have seen the signs earlier; he should have noticed the condition the younger man was in!
Not just as a mate, but also as the captain of the precinct. He was Nick's superior officer and as such he had to take care of his men. That Nick and Hank had worked through so many cases hadn't gone by unnoticed, but while Hank had time off, Nick moonlighted as a Grimm and that meant less sleep, more physical exertion, and additional injuries he had to hide.
Never from Renard. The regnant knew everything, had seen too many of those bruises and scrapes and cuts and even a stab wound to be happy about the encounters between violent creatures and his Grimm, but he couldn't ever stop the other man from doing what he had been born as.
He brushed through the longish strands of hair and smiled softly.
His mate. His Grimm. His Nick. Nick was only his, he was bonded, and still a strong and independent man, someone who gave back as good as he got, and Renard immensely enjoyed their verbal sparring as well as the quiet time together.
Not to mention the sex.
Nothing in the past compared to Nick. Nothing and no one. Strong, bull-headed, handsome and powerful and... simply, breathtakingly Nick Burckhardt.
His fingers traced gently over the pale skin along the neck, then he leaned down and kissed the smooth forehead.
"Sleep," he murmured.
x x
The call came in at six a.m., just a few hours after Nick had crashed, and he blindly fumbled for his cell phone.
"Burkhardt," he yawned.
"Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep," Wu's too chipper voice woke him. "Got a call. One that might be interesting for you."
"Huh?"
"Ephram Geiger. The rat guy."
Nick was suddenly wide awake. He knew Geiger of Geiger Pest Control, father of Roddy Geiger and a reinigen. It had been a while.
"What happened?"
"480."
Hit and run with grave bodily injury or death.
"Geiger was killed," Wu added.
"Damn," Nick muttered, already out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.
"I called Hank. He's on his way," Wu said.
"Be right there."
Only when he was done taking a leak and brushing his teeth in a hurry did Nick wonder where Renard was. Either he had crashed in the guest room – highly unlikely – or he had been called away – more likely. Whatever it was, Nick didn't have time. He dressed quickly, took his gun and badge, and off he was.
tbc...
