Notes:Super long chapter to make up for the evil cliffhanger last week.
Warnings:Language. H/C. Angst. Nick whump.
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Monroe was in the cafeteria trying to decide between the two vegetarian dinner options when Nick woke up. Lunch had been tasty enough that he was reluctantly surrendering his long held beliefs that all hospital food was actually a form of overpriced torture and was actually looking forward to trying the dinner possibilities. He had just taken his receipt when his cell phone chirped a new text message alert. He's awake.
Hastily scooping up the tray he hurried to the elevator, catching it just before the doors closed. Nick was asleep again by the time he got there, bed propped up, pale against the sheets but still looking better. He handed over Juliette's chicken Caesar salad and Dr. Pepper with a questioning look.
"They did some quick tests," she said, keeping her voice low. "There's no sign of permanent damage."
Nick had stopped breathing at six thirty-three this morning but the staff had been prepared and they'd had him on the ventilator in moments. The doctors had been optimistic. That was the very word they had used. Optimistic. But there was no way to know how much damage had been done until Nick woke up and talked to them.
Monroe sagged into the chair in relief, hastily righting the tray before he dumped his own dinner. "That's great news."
She smiled at him and Nick and the world in general. "Thank you for the food. This smells really good."
Monroe watched her eat a few bites before turning his attention to his own meal. She hadn't had much of an appetite at lunch and had missed breakfast altogether. He was ridiculously pleased that he had chosen something she liked following her less than explicit request for whatever looks good.
Daintily forking up a hunk of chicken she said, "They're going to keep him overnight. They want to do some more tests tomorrow morning but if those turn out well he'll be able to go home in the afternoon. I'm going to head home when visiting hours are over." Running a hand through her hair she grimaced. "Take a shower."
Monroe frowned. The cleanup crew had been and gone and the locksmith had fixed the door but he didn't like the idea of Juliette alone in the house. His expression must have said as much because she rolled her eyes and said around a mouthful of chicken, "I'll be fine. You and Hank are big, overprotective nursemaids."
"With good reason," he pointed out. "The woman was looking for something in your house. Someone else might be looking for it too."
"That's what Hank said. Which is why," she added, "he's going to stay over. So you don't have to worry."
He would still worry, but less knowing that. Monroe finished eating, said goodbye and headed home, took a long shower and slept hard for a couple hours. By nine thirty he was back at the hospital with a thermos full of coffee and the latest issue Horological Times.
The hall outside Nick's room was empty. With the wesen in custody the guards had been removed. Technically visitor's hours were ended but the staff seemed to have assumed that because Monroe had been seen with the cops he was a cop as well. He walked in with no trouble at all, which was a little disturbing to his peace of mind.
He took the chair on the other side of the bed. It was the most comfortable and more importantly it faced the door. He set the thermos on the little table, placed his travel mug next to it and laid the magazine next to that. The thermos came with a cup but he hated using it; metal ruined the flavor of the coffee. Pouring a mug he settled back in the chair and took a sip,—oh yeah, that was the good stuff—reached for his magazine—and nearly dropped it on the floor when he realized Nick was awake and watching him.
"Geeze, give a guy some warning." He pressed a hand to his heart, feeling it slamming in his chest. "It's not good for a man's heart to have a Grimm staring at him."
"Sorry," Nick said but there was a grin in his hoarse voice.
Monroe let it go with no more than a narrow eyed look. Guy was in the hospital after all. He handed Nick the cup of water off the table. "How are you feeling?"
Nick considered. "Okay. Kinda tired."
"Dude, you sound like you've been eating gravel."
Nick made a face. "Yeah, well, you try having a tube shoved down your throat and see how you sound."
Monroe didn't want to think about tubes and ventilators and life support. Returning in triumph, evildoer locked up, cure in hand, they had walked into the stiflingly hot room to find Nick intubated and surrounded by machinery.
"Juliette head home?" He tipped his head a bit, looking for her like she might be hiding behind the lamp.
"A little while ago."
Nick frowned. "Alone?"
He could see the gears turning in Nick's head, slowly though, because he was still pretty out of it. "No. Hank's staying over."
A small nod. "Yeah, yeah, I remember now. She told me that." He freed his other hand from the blankets to rub at his forehead. "Sorry. Still a little fuzzy."
"It's okay, man." Monroe smoothed the blankets back down. "You're lucky to be alive." If Nick had been a slightly better shot or the wesen had left town immediately rather than come back to the house….
"Juliette hit her," Nick said, muzzily proud. "Right upside the head with a flashlight."
"I saw the bruises."
He bit his lower lip, thinking. "I couldn't move. Couldn't even think about moving." He shook his head and sipped at the water then eased back into the pillow. "What was she?"
"Eishexe," Monroe said eagerly. "An honest to God ice witch. Right here in Portland. I mean, it's sort of implied—okay, okay, sure with that name it's an easy assumption that they like cold, but really they like it warm. Seriously. Dry and warm. And while they are faster and stronger than a human, and they have this whole creepy hypnotic-eyes thing going on, their real weapon is what got you."
One eyebrow rose. "What was it exactly that got me?"
"Poison. Of a sort. They make it themselves. I imagine the recipe is passed down through the family along with grandma's jewelry and the good china."
Nick made a face. "Now I'm picturing something like the Necronomicon recipe book, which is a really unpleasant thought."
"Probably pretty close," Monroe agreed and gave a little shudder. "Lucky for you they build up immunity to it so their blood—which we risked life and limb to retrieve by the way—can be turned into a cure with a little work."
Turned out Hank had a well-hidden devious streak which he'd put to work persuading the eishexe to give them the antidote while Monroe had threateningly lurked in the background. People were fooled by the sweaters and flannel but he could threateningly lurk with the best of them when the situation called for it. In the end Hank had convinced her that a possible prison sentence was better than a pissed off blutbad in a small room.
There wouldn't be a prison sentence, at least not one she ever served. Monroe had no doubt that within a day of being locked up she would disappear. A convenient garden hose had taken care of any poison powder on her skin but the hypno-eyes weren't something they could take eliminate without a lot of questions Hank wouldn't be able to answer. Monroe had settled for quietly threatening her if she hurt anyone escaping or, you know, ever showed her face in Portland again. There had been a lot of teeth and claws involved in that threat.
One of Nick's doctors was wesen (okay, initially he'd had some doubts about a Grimm receiving treatment from a kleinerläufer but a few moments in an empty hall with his game face on had made sure the little rodent wouldn't try anything) or they would have still been arguing over how to slip the modified eishexe blood into his IV without someone noticing. Within fifteen minutes of the cure being administered Nick's temperature had begun to climb. Half an hour later he'd started fighting the ventilator.
"I expect a really nice bottle of wine for that. And you should probably send Hank a card or something."
"Yeah, he was in here telling me all about it earlier," Nick said, eyes falling closed, lips curling into a smile.
"He has a worrisome attachment to his Taser." Monroe put a hand on Nick's forehead. Still cool but not corpse cold any more. "I think he's named it."
One gray eye slid open. "You're not going to lick me, are you?"
"Ew, why would I do that?" Monroe asked. He'd taste like hospital. Yuck. "You're obsessed with the licking."
The other eye opened. "Stress situation."
"Not even remotely the same. You were injured. Bleeding. I'd just beaten up another blutbad for you." He'd invited Nick into his territory, fed him, watched over him while they walked the neighborhood. "It's not weird behavior for a wesen," he added and then winced because saying it out loud just made it sound like it was weird.
"So you do that all the time with other blutbad?" Nick looked skeptical.
"Not just random blutbad, no." His coffee was getting cold so he took a long drink. "We're actually very affectionate with family. Lots of sniffing and touching and—" And he was making himself homesick remembering evenings in front of the fire in the big farmhouse, kids and pups piled on the rugs, going to sleep surrounded by familiar heartbeats and familiar scents.
Humans invested so much meaning in every brush of skin and hug and handshake. They weighed and measured and made rules about when and where and how much. Nick was less concerned about getting into Monroe's personal space, about using a hand on his arm to get his attention or talk him into doing something against his better judgment, but still nowhere as openly affectionate as any of Monroe's siblings had been. That had been one of the hardest things to give up when he'd made the choice to separate from his old life.
"Most blutbad are very affectionate," he finished lamely.
"Just family?" Nick asked. Of course he would latch right onto that part of it.
"Mostly," Monroe muttered reluctantly. Soooo didn't want to go into this.
Nick grinned as if he'd figured out something important and Monroe braced himself for some sort of mocking. But Nick just said, "Okay. Is that coffee?" The last added with a hopeful look at the thermos.
"None for you," Monroe said sternly.
"You should be nice to the poor Grimm in the hospital," Nick said but he was still smiling that secret little smile.
"The poor Grimm should learn to shoot first and question the intruder in his house later," Monroe grumbled. "The coffee goes to the blutbad who saved your ass. And it is excellent coffee if I do say so myself. Which, I guess, I just did say so myself."
Nick smiled, slow and sleepy. "Thanks for saving my ass, buddy."
Oh sure when he said it like that. "Just make sure that the next time you get jumped you don't do it on garbage day," Monroe groused. "My sinuses will never forgive me."
Nick huffed an exhausted laugh but there was still something uneasy in his eyes. "I'll do my best."
"Yeah, well, see that you do." He thought it would have sounded gruffer if he hadn't pressed a hand to Nick's hair, wanting to ease that unsettled look. Being attacked in your own territory where you were supposed to be safe took time to get over.
Ending up in the hospital because he wanted to arrest the person instead of blow their head off was going to happen again because Nick had no idea what he was up against and, as this case clearly showed, Monroe couldn't warn him about everything out there.
"Sir, yes, sir." Nick closed his eyes but he didn't move away from the hand on his head.
"You're getting out of here tomorrow afternoon," Monroe told him but Nick's breathing had deepened and evened out into sleep. "Guess I'll tell you later."
He waited to leave until Juliette and Hank arrived the next morning. Juliette didn't look surprised, just thanked him quietly and hugged him again. It was disturbing how comforting that was. Hank stopped him in the hall. "This is getting to be a habit."
Tiredly clutching his thermos in one hand, Monroe looked at him. "What's that?"
"You watching over Nick in the hospital."
"Someone has to do it."
Hank hitched a hip against the wall. "Why you?"
It was curious not hostile but it got Monroe's hackles up nonetheless. He glanced around but they're alone in the hall. "Because none of you can see what would be after him."
Nick hadn't protested Monroe sitting at his bedside this time. He dared hope that meant the Grimm was coming to realize how dangerous his life had become. "There are people who will take advantage of a vulnerable Grimm." Like that hexenbeist who'd been slithering around early this morning. He hadn't seen it but he'd smelled it and he was trusting that it wouldn't do anything with the staff bustling about and Juliette in the room.
"To kill him," Hank said slowly, expression forbidding.
"There are far worse things they can do." He was too tired to sugar coat it. "Grimm's are rare. Most of us have never seen one. Never even heard of one except by vague rumor and childhood stories." He wanted to leave it there but the temptation of someone besides him understanding the full weight of the problem was too much. "There's a market for everything and a Grimm would be…expensive."
"Jesus," Hank swore.
"I'm not saying every wesen he comes across is just waiting to pounce. Most of us are just people trying to get through life. Most of us would run away in terror if we came face to face with a Grimm." Like that dunkles eichhörnchen Nick had bumped into on the street the other day. Guy had almost pissed himself.
"But not you," Hank stated.
Monroe rubbed his eyes. "Well to be honest I didn't realize he was a Grimm at first and then he just seemed so…." What was the word?
Hank chuckled. "Yeah, I get that. You need a ride home. You look beat."
"I'm okay." He'd caught a nap or two here and there last night. "Look, there was a hexenbeist skulking around earlier. It might have nothing to do with Nick, but I don't like the coincidence."
"I can stick around," Hank promised. "Captain gave me the day off."
"Good. I don't think she would try anything in the light of day with so many witnesses around but—"
"But we're not going to take that chance." Hank nodded decisively. "I'll keep an eye out for strangers in the staff. Is there anything else I should look for?"
"This one was definitely female. Expensive perfume. I didn't see her." There wasn't much more he could offer so he waved a goodbye and trudged down the stairs.
He went home, pulled his curtains tight across sunny windows, and woke up at three in the afternoon. He felt sluggish and muzzy wandering around a too-bright house, bumping into furniture. Figured the one day he really could have used Oregon's winter gray he got a bright blue, cloudless sky.
The first cup of coffee was quickly followed by a second. Feeling marginally more awake he checked his phone and found a message from Juliette that said they'd gotten Nick home safe and sound about half an hour ago.
He did his exercises, went an extra twenty minutes to make up for missing this morning. Felt more grounded after that, more settled. He took a hot shower, made an omelet for dinner, did a little work, watched his regular programs, and made an early night of it.
Tuesday started off better, normal. He woke at his usual time, followed his usual schedule, made sure he took all his pills, and ate a high-carb lunch. After dinner he called over to Nick's to see how he was doing.
"I'm good." Still hoarse but he did sound worlds better.
Monroe listened to him moving around. "You sound out of breath," he accused suspiciously. "Why do you sound out of breath?"
"I'm fine, Monroe. I was getting a duffle bag out of the closet." Nick grunted into the phone and there was the sound of something being dropped, some scuffling. "Damn," he swore, voice sounding very far away. "Monroe, you still there? Sorry, I dropped the phone. I found out what the eishexe was after."
"What?"
"I think I broke the phone."
"No, the other part. You found out what the eishexe wanted?"
"Yeah. That envelope that was delivered on Sunday. It's from my Aunt."
"What? You have an aunt?"
"Did. Maybe. She wrote a letter that starts out: If you're reading this then it means I am unable to tell you in person."
"Well, that sounds ominous."
"Exactly. I'm headed over to Montana in the morning." He sounded tired suddenly, exhausted.
"You're not going alone." He shouldn't even be off the couch; no way was he going to drive that far alone. Weak and vulnerable.
"Hank's going with me." Nick paused then sucked in a breath, working himself up to something Monroe was sure. "Look I hate to ask this but Juliette can't go with us. Would you be able to stay over? If someone or something else comes looking for that envelope I don't want her to be alone."
"Finally," Monroe said, pleased. "You're starting to think like a Grimm."
"I'm thinking like a worried fiancé," Nick argued, just to be stubborn Monroe was convinced.
"I'm coming over. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"You don't have to come over tonight," Nick said, but there was undisguised relief in his voice.
"Twenty minutes. But I want you to know you're cutting into my Christmas decorating schedule."
Nick breathed out a sigh into the phone. "Thanks, Monroe."
He threw a few essentials into a bag; clothes, toiletries, medications, a couple books, and a project to keep him busy. Juliette answered the door. She looked as tired as Nick had sounded over the phone. "Hi. Come in. Have you eaten?"
"Oh, yeah, I had dinner before I came over." He left the bag on a table in the hall and followed her to the kitchen, watched her finish putting leftovers away.
"Nick should be right down." She tucked a couple containers into the fridge. "Would you like a cup of hot chocolate?"
"Why yes, thank you. That would be delightful."
He liked Juliette. Liked her voice and smell, her thoughtless kindness and wicked sense of humor.
Humans weren't his normal choice of…associates. Most of the people he saw on a regular basis were wesen from group and his volunteer work. They were friendly, sociable, but they knew what he was. There was always a sense of wariness when he came into the room and Monroe knew they were just waiting for the day the monster got out. Couldn't blame them, a thousand years of evolution wasn't lightly dismissed, but it still bothered him.
He liked that Juliette and Nick didn't act like that. Didn't ease around his personal space like cats that knew the boundary of the dog's chain. Didn't avoid touching him. They weren't entirely comfortable yet, but it was the awkwardness of getting to know someone, not the awkwardness of wondering when he was going to snap and eat them.
It was pure idiocy of course. They trusted him because they didn't yet have the slightest clue what a blutbad was capable of. Juliette hadn't seen his other face and Nick, well, Nick had apparently been hit in the head too many times as a child. He was under the delusion that if he told a person they were reliable and trustworthy and good they would be all those things.
"Here you go." Juliette handed him the mug. "Careful it's really hot. I was just getting ready to watch some TV if you want to join me. Nick should be—"
"Nick should be what?" Nick asked, coming down the stairs.
"—right down to talk to Monroe," Juliette finished. She grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the couch. "Sit with me. You look tired."
He looked hollow-eyed and dead on his feet and when Juliette sat down on the couch and tugged, he collapsed next to her with a pitiful little groan. "I am tired," he admitted. "If I sit down I'm going to fall asleep."
"Good," Juliette declared. She curled up next to him, throwing one leg across his to keep him in place. "You need to rest."
"I slept all day," Nick complained to Monroe. He stole Juliette's hot chocolate, wrapping both hands around the cup. "Every time I stop moving for more than five minutes I fall asleep."
"Dude, you were poisoned. Your body needs time to recover."
Nick made a face.
Juliette nudged Nick with an elbow. "Are you going to drink that hot chocolate or just cuddle with it?"
"It's warm," Nick said, making a protesting noise when she took the mug away briefly to take a sip.
He was wearing, Monroe noted, at least three layers and heavy socks.
"Awwww, my poor baby." She snuggled closer. "I'll keep you warm."
"Not in front of the guests." Kicking his feet up on the table, Nick nudged the FedEx envelope laying there towards Monroe. "You should read that."
"Are you sure? This is kind of personal."
"I'm sure."
Monroe emptied the envelope in his lap. There was a photograph, an Idaho potato key chain with five keys and a small, beautifully carved cross on it, and a letter. The paper was expensive linen but appeared to be fairly old, ivory-colored, and had a spray of flowers embossed on the left side.
My dearest Nickolas,
If you're reading this then it means I am unable to tell you in person and for that I am truly sorry. You were very young when I left, I don't know if you remember me. My name is Marie and I am your mother's sister.
There are so many things I need to tell you that are too dangerous to be committed to this letter. I know you must have been seeing some strange things and it is important that you know they are real and that they will know you can see them as the creatures they truly are.
You must be very careful. Those hunting me and will now be hunting you.
I have left something for you at the return address on this envelope. Be wary; others will be searching for it as well.
With deepest love,
Marie Anne Kessler
"Holy shit!" Monroe was aware his jaw was hanging open but he just couldn't seem to shut it. "Your aunt was Marie Kessler."
"You've heard of her?" Nick asked, making an attempt at straightening out of his boneless slump. "I think I met her a couple times but I was really little."
"Have I heard of her!" He stared at the letter. The writing was graceful and looping, not at all what he expected. "Remember those bedtime stories my granny used to tell me? Let's just say Blood Mary was one of the stars." A big, gory, terrifying star. "I can't believe I know the nephew of Marie Kessler." Oh my God! "You can never tell anyone and when I say anyone I mean anyone."
"That sounds worrying," Juliette said.
"There are a lot of wesen out there who hate Grimms just for existing, but one as well-known as Marie Kessler? Woo boy, that's going to have blood feuds crawling out of the woodwork."
Juliette looked at Nick. "I thought your Aunt died before you moved from New York."
"So did I," Nick said faintly.
Monroe re-read the letter then folded it away and carefully picked up the photo. It was obviously old. Edges rounded the way they did in the late Seventies and early Eighties, Technicolor sepia all over. "Is that you?"
"Wasn't he just adorable," Juliette laughed.
Nick rolled his eyes. "That's my dad right behind me. Mom's on the right and I guess that's Marie on the left."
"Wow, seriously, your family is far too good looking."
"I know, right?" Juliette said. "You should see his grandparents."
In the photo, Nick looked four, maybe five years old, grinning big and broad in a way Monroe had never seen on the grown man. All four of them were dressed in their Sunday best, Nick and his dad in matching suits, which was utterly adorable, hair thoroughly combed. There was a stone church in the background, lots of people in nice clothes at tables laid out on the lawn, kids playing on the wide stretch of grass. A wedding maybe. There were flowers and swags of yellow and white cloth.
Turning it over, he read the back. Marie, Kelly, Reed, and Nicky. Summer 1985, Rhinebeck. Nicky, huh. He tucked that away for future use. "Where's Rhinebeck?"
"New York state," Nick said. "We lived there before moving to Portland. I think that was at the Methodist church but I don't remember exactly. They told me she was killed in a car accident when I was eleven or twelve. It was right before we moved out here."
"Rhinebeck. Isn't that where Chelsea Clinton was married?" Monroe grinned at Nick's expression.
"Really?" Juliette said. She hit Nick on the arm. "You didn't tell me you lived somewhere famous."
"Ow. We moved when I was twelve. I don't pay attention to celebrity weddings in the town I live in now."
"It's true," Juliette agreed. "I had to force him to watch Kate and William's wedding."
"All eight thousand hours of it," Nick groaned. He dropped his head back against the cushions dramatically. "I was traumatized."
"Hush you," Juliette said. "He got really into it once the ceremony actually got underway."
Nick sagged into the couch again. "She had me taking notes."
"I did not you big liar. I did love that dress though."
"It was exquisite," Monroe agreed.
Nick groaned again. "Don't get her started on dresses," he begged, covering his face with his hands. Monroe could see him laughing through his fingers.
"Oh stop," Juliette said. "I have two brothers," she explained. "One is a confirmed bachelor and the other one eloped. My mom has rested her last hope of a big, white wedding on her only daughter."
Monroe leaned forward to pat Nick on the shin. "You have my condolences, man."
"Hey!" Juliette objected.
Monroe put the photo away and examined the keys. Two looked like they belonged to an automobile. The third probably went to a padlock or something similar. The fourth and fifth were identical, but too small for a house key and too large to be another padlock. Tucking the keys back into the envelope he closed it up and put it back on the coffee table.
"It's about twelve hours to White Sulphur Springs, depending on weather and how many times we stop," Nick said. "We may be able to get whatever it is my aunt left me and head back day after tomorrow. Shouldn't inconvenience you too much."
It seemed a hurried schedule to Monroe but it wasn't his family issues they were dealing with. If it were his family issues he would want it over as quickly as possible too.
"So you're saying that hanging out with me is an inconvenience," Juliette teased.
Nick grinned at her and tickled the foot she had laying over his lap. "If the shoe fits."
"You see what I put up with?" Juliette complained to Monroe.
Monroe just smiled at them because, yeah, he saw how she pressed her shoulder against Nick's and how Nick's hand stayed on her leg, fingers curled around the cuff of her sweatpants to keep her close. "I don't know how you stand it."
() () ()
Three days later Monroe and Juliette were eating pizza on the couch, sorting through Christmas decorations, and watching reruns of My Fair Wedding.
"I can't believe you haven't even put up a tree yet," Monroe said. "It's two weeks to Christmas. I've had my decorations up for a—" He stopped hearing an unfamiliar vehicle pull up behind the house.
Juliette looked up from the box in her lap. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's here." A moment later he heard the more familiar sound of Nick's SUV parking in its usual place in the front.
"They're back?"
Monroe got up to look out the window. "They're back." Nick was walking towards the house, exhaustion in every line of his body. He heard the front door open and a moment later Juliette was down the walk, throwing herself at Nick, who staggered back a couple steps but caught her and wrapped her up in his arms like they'd been apart for years.
Nick had called a couple hours ago to let them know they were finally close. Monroe hadn't talked to him but he'd been able to hear both ends of the conversation. Even over the fuzzy connection Nick had sounded tired and relieved to be nearly home.
Hank came in the back door, carrying his duffle over his shoulder.
"You look like hell," Monroe said.
Hank gave him a weary look and shook his head. "It was one hell of a trip, man. One hell of a trip." He smelled of cold night air and fatigue and several strange new things. "It started snowing as soon as we hit the Idaho border."
"That sounds bad. Did you find Nick's aunt." For Nick's sake he hoped she was alive but deep, deep down inside he knew he was praying for the opposite for a lot of reasons. He liked the Grimm who came to him for help and invited him over for dinner. That would all change if Bloody Mary Kessler got ahold of him
"Not unexpectedly," Hank said, "she died a couple months ago. We did, however, bring back her ashes. Nick wanted to bury her with his parents."
"Oh." He absolutely refused to let out the sigh of relief that bubbled up in his chest. "Was she…?" Ripped apart? Beheaded? Eaten? "How did she die?"
"Cancer," Hank said shortly.
"Oh." Monroe blinked dumbly at him. "That wasn't what I was expecting? Huh. You want a cup of coffee?"
Hank eyed him. "If I say yes will you stop sniffing at me?"
"You smell strange," Monroe complained as he headed towards the kitchen. Like books and ink and old death.
"Strange?"
"Strange!" Monroe yelled from the kitchen. He heard the front door open, heard Nick and Juliette enter the house. "Coffee!" He really didn't need to ask because they'd started the pot for him and Juliette so he knew she would want a cup and when it came to coffee Nick always said—
"Yes, please!" Nick yelled back and Monroe could hear him dropping onto the couch.
"No!" Hank shouted. "I'm headed home to get some sleep."
Monroe fixed three cups while listening to Hank departing with a promise to come by tomorrow afternoon to look at the trailer. Monroe nudged Nick with his knee to get him to sit up on the couch and take his mug. "What trailer?"
Five minutes later, they were standing in Marie Kessler's shiny, silver Airstream death-trailer.
"Wow," Monroe said, turning in a circle to take it all in. "Wow! This is awesome." There was just so much to see, so many things tucked into corners, so many drawers.
"What is all this?" Juliette asked, mouth open a little as she stared.
Nick sat down on the bed, shaking his head slowly. "I have no idea."
"This is awesome!" Monroe repeated. "This is like the Smithsonian for Grimms."
Nick smiled his 'you are so amusing tome' smile but Monroe had more important things to look at. He sat down in the wooden desk chair. It creaked a little when he rolled it forward. He rubbed his hands over wood worn smooth as silk by Grimm hands.
"Would you like us to leave you two alone?" Nick asked.
Monroe ignored the sarcasm; he was just too excited by this. "This is so insanely cool." How could they not realize how insanely cool this was? "A blutbad sitting where Grimms have sat. Where Marie Kessler sat! On this very cushion." He bounced on the cushion a couple times. "This is history making."
He opened the book laid out on the desk. It was a big, heavy thing that made him think words like folio and tome. He wasn't going to dwell on what sort of animal the leather cover came from. It sure didn't feel like cow. There was a table of contents filled with lots of German names, a few in Spanish and French, even a few in Russian. It was an encyclopedia on wesen, a PDR for Grimms.
"This is unbelievable," Juliette said, sitting next to Nick and taking his hand. "She must have been collecting this stuff for years. Decades."
"Try centuries," Monroe snorted. "Every Grimm in your crooked little family tree has added to this. This is you're inheritance, man."
Nick was openly laughing at him now, which was far better than the numb, overwhelmed look from before. He leaned backwards to retrieve a smaller, leather-bound book from among the many shelves tucked into corners and niches tossing it to Monroe. "I found yours."
He turned a few pages. "Well this is wrong. I need a pen. This is so, so wrong. Oh, well, this is mostly right. Oh my—I can't believe they put that in a book." He closed it quickly sure he was blushing. "Your ancestors were a bunch of perves." Nick had the gall to grin. He'd probably read the whole damn thing already.
"What?" Juliette asked. "Wait I want to see."
"No, no, you can never look at that. Ever."
She smirked at him. "Not that. Keep your pervy wesen centerfolds to yourself. I want to see the picture. I've never seen what you look like when you're…different."
"Oh." He wrapped both hands around the book, staring at the word blutbad stamped in florid gold letters on the worn spine. It was one thing to show it his other face to Nick who needed to see and frankly would see whether Monroe liked it or not and Nick's open, unblinking acceptance had helped. Someday he would have to show her but…. He didn't want Juliette to think of him as a monster. "It's really not a good likeness and it's, um, not very pretty."
Juliette looked about a second away from coming over and hugging him or something equally awkward. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"No, no, it's fine. I mean it's not like I'm a bauerschwein or anything." He was aware he was babbling like a nervous idiot but he couldn't stop. "Now those guys are ugly."
She got up from the bed, but thankfully restrained herself to patting the hand he had white knuckled on the book before moving over to poke through a couple drawers.
Monroe looked at Nick. "You can't leave the trailer here. Not even for the night."
"Yeah." Nick slumped back against the pile of pillows. "I know a place I can take it for now."
"We should do it then," Juliette said, "so you can get some sleep."
"Sleeeeep," Nick said in his best 'zombie wants brains' voice, rolling onto his back on the bed dragging an embroidered throw pillow over his face. "Neeeed sleeeep."
"You're, like, the wimpiest Grimm ever," Monroe pronounced and remorseless ripped the pillow away. "One little poisoning and you're down all week."
Nick flipped him off making Juliette laugh.
TBC