KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

The sound of someone banging on the door makes Bud nearly jump out of his skin. Then again, there aren't many things on this Earth that don't do that. Shuffling to the door, baseball bat in hand, he trembles. "W-who is it? Who's there?" He stutters. If it truly had been anyone looking to harm him, there was no way he would have scared them off.

"Bud, it's Trubel. Let me in."

"Oh, phew!" Unlocking the door, he lets Trubel in. "I-I thought that maybe something was wrong. Hey, how's Nick? Did you guys ever find Juliette? Oh God, I hope they're okay. It's such a shame to see them on such bad terms now-"

"Bud, breathe." Trubel nearly snaps. She normally would have laughed a little at Bud's fast-talking ways, but she was here on a mission. "Nick is in the hospital right now."

"The hospital?! Wha-what happened? Oh my God, don't tell me Juliette did this…"

"It's a long story, okay? Right now I need to talk to Adalind."

"O-oh, um, sure. She's in the guest room, I-I think she might be asleep." Pointing with a shaky finger down the hall, Bud gives a nervous smile.

"Yeah, well not for much longer." Stomping off down the hall, a chittering Bud following a few feet behind, Trubel throws open the door to Adalind's room, bathing the sleeping blonde in the dim light from the hallway before turning on the light in the room. "Get up. Now."

Adalind stirs, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. "Oh, what do you want?" She bites.

"I want you to get up." Marching over to the little bed, Trubel practically pulls Adalind by the arm until she's standing, then proceeds to pin her to the wall. "This is all your fault!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I've been cooped up in here for nearly a week!" Groaning, Adalind tries to push her off. But Trubel is determined; she pushes harder, restraining her with a newfound strength.

"Juliette found Nick and tried to kill him. I had to shoot her. Nick was so in shock that he's in the hospital, and he won't talk to any of us. He can't talk anymore, all because you had to go and sleep with him and start all of this!"

Somewhere in the hall, Bud is blathering on nervously. "Oh my God, I-I'm just gonna go, o-out to the… y-yeah, bye…"

Turning back to Adalind, Trubel growls. Grabbing her by the shoulders, she throws her back on the bed.

"Hey, watch it! I'm kind of carrying here!" Adalind shrieks, motioning to her swollen stomach.

"Do I look like I care? You're just lucky I'm not here to kill you!"

"Oh yeah, lucky me." Sighing, Adalind props herself up, still a little dizzy from being thrown around. "Alright, so why are you here?"

"Because you're the only one who knows how to fix him." Crossing her arms, Trubel narrows her eyes. "So, you have a choice: either help us fix him, or-"

"Or what, you'll kill me? Kill us? You wouldn't have the guts."

"Oh yeah? Try me."

Running her tongue along her teeth, Adalind thinks about it a moment. "Look sweetheart: I don't know if you know this, but I don't exactly have my powers right now. Even if I wanted to help you, I couldn't. So unless you know another hexenbiest, you're out of luck."

Smirking, Trubel leans up against the wall. "I may not know a hexenbiest, but I do know of a zauberbiest that would be more than willing to help."

Rolling her eyes, Adalind grumbles. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Rolling out of bed, she finds her jacket. "Fine. But we're going to need some supplies."

"I've got that covered, too. Now let's go."

[Break]

"No, the bottle next to it. There."

Rosalee scans the bottles on the shelf, looking for the next item on her list. "Got it." Passing the bottle down to Adalind, she climbs back down the rungs of the little rolling ladder. "Alright, now we just need the agrimony. I think I have some on the back table already."

"Okay, the first thing you need to do is mix the agrimony with the Althea Root, boil it, and let it cool. Once it's about room temperature, sprinkle in the Bechan, and let it sit for about two hours. He'll have to drink a decent amount of the stuff for it work."

Taking note of her instructions, Rosalee nods. "Got it." Closing her little notepad, she clears her throat. "And what are the chances that this will actually work?"

Three pairs of eyes all find their way to Adalind, staring her down like a prey item. Gulping, she sighs. "No one really knows. More than anything, it's just going to help promote positive grieving, and help him recover faster. I guess that if you want to up your possibility of it making him talk, you can add about a teaspoon of Benzoin."

Surprisingly, Monroe is the next to speak. He's been a little shy of words lately, but with a small sense of hope returning, he's beginning to find his voice again. "How long should it take before we see results?"

She turns to look at him. Even when he's an emotional wreck, Monroe is still a potential threat. If anything, he's more dangerous now. She thinks about it carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing the wrong way and set him off. "If you're lucky, about three days."

"And if we're not lucky?"

There's another agonizing moment of silence. Even though everyone wants to know the answer, they also don't want to hear it. "The max amount of time could be up to a month. And that's just if it works."

Rosalee can see how hard the news hits Monroe. And through all the mess of silence, she can hear her own heart beginning to shatter. "It's still the best option we have. I think we can wait a month, don't you?"

Monroe sighs. "I guess a month isn't really that long a time. Definitely shorter than forever."

"Trubel?"

Looking up, Trubel cracks a small smile. "I can wait."

"Then it's settled. Now all we have to do is make the potion and make Nick drink it."

"What happens if he doesn't want to drink it? Like, what if he finds out what it's for and gets angry or something?" Trubel had thought about it since the first mention of a potion. Their recent experience with Juliette had proven that if someone was stubborn enough, they may just resist every little inkling of help and hope.

"We don't have to tell him what it is. We can just put it in an old water bottle or something." Rosalee suggests.

"The potion isn't exactly flavorless." Adalind pipes in. "You might have better luck telling him it's tea or something. If you need to, you can add a little cinnamon to help hide the flavor from the Althea Root."

"Then that's what we'll do."

As everyone begins heading to their little unassigned stations, Adaling grabs Trubel's arm. "I hope you know that if this doesn't work, it's not because I didn't want it to."

Furrowing her brows, Trubel pulls her arm away. "Why in the hell do you even care about helping him?"

"Well, it did seem like a sort of life-or-death situation for me."

"Please, I never would have killed you." Trubel mumbles.

"Really? Cause you made it seem like a pretty big possibility."

Sighing, Trubel pulls Adalind off to the side. "Look, as much as I would love to wring your neck, you're pregnant. That child is innocent, and it doesn't deserve to die for the shit you did."

Pursing her lips, Adalind steps back. "You Grimms are getting way too soft." Then, secretly, she leans in and whispers good luck before ducking out the door of the spice shop.